Old Moon Fades
by Taigan
Summary: Draco learns that appearances can be deceiving and that hate can mask even the greatest of all human emotions, Love. Beliefs are shattered and new bonds are formed. DHr
1. Prologue: The Lost Prophecy

A/N: I am reposting this first chapter/prologue to explain to new readers that yes, I know this chapter is short. It's the prologue. I promise to make the other chapters longer, at least 2,000 words. I don't want to make them too long because I want to be able to update relatively quickly. So, what would be considered two chapters on this website, in reality will be more like one chapter. I hate it when I get to a cliff-hanger in someone's story and then have to wait a month for an update. I promise that I will never go that long between updates. You have my word. I hope to have a new chapter up at least once a week. So, please don't hold this prologue against me! Oh yeah... I also offer my apologies for the rhyming at the end... you'll see when you get there, and no I won't be making up anymore horrible rhymes.

Old Moon Fades

Prologue:

The air crackled with anticipation and telltale lightning flashed ominously as a storm raged outside the Hog's Head. Albus Dumbledore stood in the doorway several feet from the table he'd abandoned only moments ago. His mind was racing and his heart hammering wildly as he struggled for some semblance of composure. Sybil Trelawney sank down into her chair almost grudgingly, her eyes glazed over as if witnessing some distant turmoil. He had not expected this and he was not one to be surprised. When she applied for the position of Divination Professor he intended to come to the Hog's Head and politely deny her request. They had been chatting politely enough and said their good-byes. He was on his way to the door when he spun around and stared in complete astonishment as Sybil Trelawney rasped out the prophecy that would one day shape the destiny of the wizarding world. Her body slammed back into her chair and her fingers clawed madly at the table sending the abandoned tea service crashing to the floor.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Dumbledore walked back toward their small table and let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His brain struggled to form coherent thoughts as it attempted to wrap itself around this monstrous development.

"A child will be born with the ability to defeat Voldemort? A CHILD?!"

This did not make sense! The entire Ministry of Magic, a team of highly trained Aurors, and all the members of the Order had been hugely unsuccessful in even locating Voldemort and tracking down known Death Eaters. How could a child, a baby at that, possibly manage what he could not? But his reverie was interrupted as she began to speak once again, but not in the harsh tones she had used during her first prophecy. This time she was speaking in an almost hushed voice, her eyes piercing Dumbledore's as she whispered out the second prophecy, the prophecy that in years to come would remain as much of a secret as it was now.

"The fate of our world is divided in two.

What once was old will again be new.

Black and White will become Grey,

The Grey to be reformed like clay.

In the deepest dark a spark is born,

Though its true his heart is torn.

What will be lost will come again,

Though it will be where it had not been.

As the old moon fades into the new

The Half-Blood Prince is crowned askew..."


	2. Chapter One: The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter One: The Calm Before the Storm

Harry lay on his bed in his room at the Dursley's, staring vacantly up at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he'd been like that. The Dursley's seemed to sense that it was in their best interest to stay away from him and they did. For three days he hadn't seen them, coming out of his room only in the safety of night to fetch enough food to survive the next day. He didn't want to fill his belly any more than he wanted to fill the ache he felt like a large gaping hole in his heart. Dead. Sirius was dead and Harry was all alone in the world. He wished he had never met Sirius, he wished that he had never known what it could be like to have family. Real family. A family who loved him and worried about him. He wished that he had never been born. Maybe then his parents wouldn't have died. Sirius would be alive, and Neville Longbottom could be the one worrying about becoming a murderer. Or worse, a victim. Part of him longed for Voldemort to fulfill the prophecy and just kill him, end his pain. He wished that he could just be numb.

Harry watched the play of shadows and sun on the walls of his room. He had watched the sun come up that morning, filtering brightly through the blinds he had tried so hard to close. And now he watched as the sun went down, his room slowly darkening in the dwindling twilight. Faintly he heard voices down the hall. Dudley lumbered his massive bulk down the stairs. The front door slammed loudly a few seconds later. He didn't know where Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon were. He didn't care.

The phone rang. Shrilling it rang again. And again. Obviously they weren't in the house as Aunt Petunia always answered the phone on the second ring. Harry hoped whoever was calling would just hang up. They didn't. After several minutes of continuous ringing he gave up and went to answer it. It was Hermione.

"Harry?" Hermione asked quietly. "I just wanted to see how you are doing." There was no response. "Harry, please I want to talk to you about this."

"I don't feel like talking, Hermione. Just leave me alone."

"I'm worried about you. We all are. I tried calling yesterday but your Uncle said that you wouldn't come out of your room. He said he hadn't seen you in days," she sounded close to tears and for some reason that made Harry even more angry.

"I said I don't feel like talking and I don't," He moved to hang up the receiver.

"Harry, you have to talk about it soon. I know that you are upset about Sirius dying..." He didn't let her finish and slammed the phone down with a bang.

A few seconds later it rang again. He pulled the cord from the wall and smiled hollowly in satisfaction at finally shutting Hermione up.

Harry stalked into the kitchen, glad to be alone. He slammed the refrigerator door loudly after retrieving a half-eaten crust of sandwich and a glass of milk. In the driveway he heard a car door slam. He walked woodenly back up the stairs toward his room, shutting the door as his aunt and uncle came into the house.

* * *

Ron sat at the kitchen table with his elbows resting on the worn surface, his hands gripped tightly around the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. Abruptly he threw it across the room earning a cluck of disapproval from his mother but no further scolding. Ginny bent to retrieve it as Ron dropped his forehead to the table and clenched tiny fistfuls of hair in his hands. Ginny sat down quietly next to her brother and skimmed the article she already knew by heart.

**PRISON OUTBREAK! DEATH EATERS ESCAPE AZKABAN!**

Below the headline were several pictures. The one that called out most to her was that of Lucius Malfoy's sneering face. He haughtily posed as if he had spent the duration of his imprisonment sipping fine wine at a villa in southern France instead of in Azkaban Prison. His face haunted her and she knew that Ron was scared too. They all were. It had been less than a week since they had returned home from Hogwarts. It seemed so long ago that they had all marched into the Ministry of Magic intent on freeing Sirius. So much had gone wrong that night. They had all spent time in the hospital wing after that. It seemed the only thing Madam Pomfrey hadn't been able to heal was her heart. Ginny shook her head. She knew what she was getting herself into when she told Harry that she was going too. She knew when she had first gone to the D.A. meetings. It had been inevitable. Whatever connection Voldemort had with Harry was strong. Ginny didn't understand it but she recognized that at least. And Harry was her friend, her brother's best friend. He was almost like family. No, she couldn't say that honestly, Ginny admitted to herself. She didn't think of Harry as a brother, but she would as long as he thought of her as Ron's little sister. The mere thought was crushing; no, not anymore, she'd moved on long ago. That didn't mean she still couldn't hope there was a future between them, but not now. Not when everything was falling apart. Harry had too much to deal with, what with Voldemort, Sirius' death, and whatever had actually been in that sphere in the Department of Mysteries... No, she wouldn't pressure him or even let him know how she truly felt. Not now. Maybe when all of this was over. If it was ever over.

Ginny glanced at Ron. He had scrambled around for some parchment and a quill and was furiously writing a letter to someone. Hermione probably. Ginny knew that Ron cared for Hermione even if he didn't realize it himself. He was now shouting for Pig who zoomed into the room within seconds eager to help.

"Pig, take this to Hermione as fast as you can. Don't come back without her response!"

Ginny frowned. Until that moment she hadn't realized how much more danger Hermione was in than the rest of them. With the exception of Harry, everyone that had gone to the Ministry that night intent of freeing Sirius had been purebloods. Everyone except Hermione. Just being Muggleborn made her a target, but she was also one of Harry Potter's best friends, and to top it all off, they had sent several Death Eaters to Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy and the others would be pleased to kill her. "The best witch of her age" and a Muggleborn to boot. A fine prize she would be for any of Voldemort's cronies.

Ginny shivered as she thought, _Not Hermione. Please not Hermione._

Pig was gone and Ron was again scribbling madly at a piece of parchment. Harry. Of course. Harry couldn't get the Daily Prophet at the Dursley's. Harry would want to know what had happened. He needed to know everything that went on. Ron was now calling for Erroll who eventually swooped in, somersaulting into the fireplace. Ron attached this second letter to Erroll's outstretched leg and sent him to Harry with urgent instructions. He turned swiftly toward their mother, every worry and doubt evident on his face.

"Mum, I told Hermione and Harry that they had to stay with us at the Burrow. It's not safe right now," Ron stated defiantly, begging for a challenge. "They aren't safe all by themselves."

Molly turned from the sink, where she had been scrubbing hard at the dishes. She was too distracted to even think of using magic to clean them.

"Of course, Ron. Of course. You know that they are both always welcome."

Ron looked confused and Ginny scowled. "You aren't going to say no?"

It was almost as if Molly was in denial of the entire ordeal. Neither Ron nor Ginny had been scolded for their reckless behavior that night at the Ministry. Since they'd been home she acted almost like none of it had happened and would frequently ask Ron how he thought he did on his O.W.L.'s.

"No, No. It's perfectly alright if Harry and Hermione want to come visit for awhile. The more the merrier," she chuckled loudly.

Both Ron and Ginny looked at each other with questioning eyes.

An hour later Hermione responded, saying that yes she had read the article. Several times in fact, and yes she would come and stay as soon as she could arrange transportation and pack her things.

Ron sighed in relief and Ginny relaxed a bit. Soon Hermione would get to the Burrow and she would be safe.

The twins had been listening from the other room. Ginny knew that they shared her worries about Harry and Hermione.

"Oy, Ron!" George called from the other room. "I can Apparate to her house and we can come back by Floo if you want."

Ron immediately nodded his head and stood up, "I'll go too!"

At that, Molly spun from the sink, soap dripping down her arms, denial forgotten. She puffed up like a dragon and roared, "Ronald Weasley! You are NOT going anywhere! George, you may go and get Hermione, but bring Fred with you. AND BE CAREFUL!"

Ron didn't think to protest but turned to George and yelled, "GO!"

With a pop George was gone and Ron stood from the table and began pacing the length of the kitchen.

Ten minutes later both Fred and George returned with white faces, visibly shaken. They had found both of Hermione's parents lying unconscious in the living room. Ron seemed incapable of speech. Ginny sat down hard and Molly dropped the plate she was holding in the sink. It shattered.

There had been signs of a struggle but Hermione was gone. They had searched the entire house. She was gone, but the Dark Mark remained, smoking in the hallway...


	3. Chapter Two: Forgotten Fortitude

A/N: I realize now that I didn't have one of these disclaimers before my other chapters. As you all know, I do not own Harry Potter. The ideas in this story are mine however. The title of the story is a lyric from a Zero 7 song called Destiny. I know that the chapters are relatively short, but I did that on purpose to allow for faster updating and less waiting time for the readers. I intended to post this chapter two days ago but my school schedule overwhelmed me temporarily. I guess that's what happens when you try to take 19 hours. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Please review me or send me an email. I appreciate any kind of criticism, positive or otherwise.

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Two:

It was utter pandemonium at the Burrow. When Fred and George returned with the news that Hermione was missing Molly Weasley swung into action. She immediately apparated to the Ministry of Magic. Fred went by Floo to Grimmauld Place to alert the other members of the Order, while George apparated outside the Dursley's to collect Harry. Within mere minutes the house was filled with various people all intent on discovering exactly where Hermione had been taken and by whom. Ginny sat at the kitchen table crying softly and Ron had disappeared outside with red-rimmed eyes and a look of utter defeat on his face.

Harry and George arrived shortly thereafter by Floo. Harry caught himself searching the faces of those cramped into the tiny room for Sirius. He mentally berated his foolish hope and forced himself to concentrate on what was at the moment the most important. Hermione. Kidnapped by Death Eaters. It seemed that they'd finally gone public targeting one of Harry's best friends. It didn't seem to cross Harry's mind that she was Muggleborn and also happened to be the cleverest witch in Hogwarts. All Harry could think was that it was his fault. Somehow he was responsible. The guilt pressed down heavy on his heart. He didn't know what he'd do if she died. He couldn't even fathom it. But, he couldn't help also thinking that he should have anticipated it. After all hadn't Malfoy threatened him at the end of term? This act was merely payback for sending Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters to Azkaban.

Harry looked around for Ron or Ginny. He saw Ginny sitting at the kitchen table crying while Molly hugged her tightly and whispering softly into her hair. He couldn't make out what she was saying and didn't want to intrude. Ron apparently wasn't inside and as Harry moved to find him Remus Lupin caught him by the elbow.

"Harry, I'm glad to see you've arrived. We would have sent Aurors to get you but George Weasley beat us to it," he smiled hollowly. It seemed to Harry that his old professor had aged another ten years in the scant weeks that had passed since he'd stood with him on the platform at King's Cross confronting the Dursley's. His tattered clothes hung loosely and wrinkled on his battered frame, and Lupin's eyes were tired and defeated looking as they searched his own. "We think it's the Malfoy's but you'd probably guessed that already."

Harry nodded and looked up at his mentor clearly wanting more information. Lupin complied.

"Dumbledore is sending members of the Order and several Aurors to Malfoy Manor to investigate. Others are being sent to various locations where we think Death Eaters may be hiding. It seems that no one else was attacked but urgent owls were sent to those we feel are in the most danger."

Harry started at that, "Muggleborns." It was not a question. Clearly the Death Eaters would be most interested in Muggleborns first. But, it seemed to Harry that this attack wasn't merely political. It was extremely personal, meant to be regarded as a slap in the face of Harry, the Ministry, and the Order.

"Yes, Harry. It's started." Lupin looked resigned. The second war had begun.

Soon, thought Harry. Soon he would be forced to make an enormous decision, to kill or... He didn't want to think of the alternative and forced his brain away from those thoughts. He didn't want to die, not really...

"Harry, now I know you are worried about Hermione, but it hasn't been all that long since she disappeared and the Order is already on their way."

A quick glance around the room proved it to be true. Half the people who had been occupying the kitchen were gone. Harry was still looking around when Lupin pulled him out of his reverie yet again.

"Just so you know if you ever want to talk to someone about Sirius..."

"NO! Thank you. I, um... I'm going to go find Ron. And tell him what's going on," and with that Harry stormed from the room leaving a crestfallen Lupin behind.

Harry found Ron behind the house vigorously degnoming the garden. It appeared that Ron was in a temper and Harry ducked as a gnome whizzed by his face and over the fence. Harry approached cautiously not wanting to be the one that set Ron off,

and seated himself on a small stone bench.

It was several minutes before Ron actually spoke, "She'll be alright won't she? I mean, she has to be..."

Harry knew not to look at Ron and answered quietly, "Dumbledore sent some of the Order to Malfoy Manor to check things out. If she's there they'll find her."

Ron didn't say anything again for awhile, but Harry knew that he was deeply upset and trying to mask his feelings. He was mildly surprised when he glanced up to see Ron looking at him with ice hidden in his eyes.

"If Malfoy so much as touches Hermione, I'll kill him."

_In the Underground Chamber:_

Darkness crept cautiously into the room. Freezing air filled her lungs as she sluggishly regained consciousness. Hermione's hands met with cold marble floors as she struggled to sit up and for a moment she couldn't remember where she was or what had happened. But, it all came crashing back suddenly and hit her like a ton of bricks. Malfoy. Both Malfoys. Lucius had escaped from Azkaban. It was bound to have happened eventually, but she never anticipated that it would be so quickly. Hermione reached for her wand knowing that it wouldn't be there. It wasn't. Her calculating eyes quickly scanned the room for any means of escape. There were no windows and judging from the dampness that hung in the air she was somewhere underground. Large bookcases covered the walls and were filled with books she had never heard of before, under normal circumstances their spines would have called out to her in siren song. Not now. She had to find a way out. Wobbly legs threatened to collapse as she finally found her footing. With a trace of panic creeping into her step Hermione staggered towards the only door.

"Going somewhere, Granger?"

She spun around towards the sound of the voice. Draco Malfoy sat regally in a plush chair with one hand casually draped over the arm. He was not looking at her but at what he was currently twirling in his hand. A wand. Her wand. "Did you honestly think I'd let you keep it?" He looked over at her then with blatant hatred etched into every fine line of his face.

The terror that she had so far been able to keep at bay was quickly overwhelming her. It bubbled over into every portion of her brain and she couldn't think. The panic rose and choked her as she blindly turned and fumbled toward the door.

"He's going to kill you, you know, my father. He's going to kill you for what you and your lot did at the Ministry," Malfoy sneered and chuckled wildly. "And I get to watch."

Hermione scrambled toward the door that seemed to be getting further and further away with every step she took. Her hand wrapped around the bronze handle as clammy fingers snaked around her arm pulling her back into the room and throwing her to the ground. Her head hit the floor and one of her feet was pinned awkwardly beneath her, twisted at an odd angle. It felt like nothing, but a sob escaped anyway. "Please." Her voice was whisper-quiet and featherlite. Tears were now pouring freely down her bruised and battered cheeks. "Malfoy, please."

He could barely hear her she was so quiet. Malfoy ignored her and gave her a swift kick in the side as he strode back to his chair. He had barely sat down when the door swung open and his father walked in. The weeks at Azkaban showed in his face. His long blonde hair was streaked with grey and his eyes were haunted. But, his mouth was curved into the closest thing to a smile that Draco had ever seen from his father. Inside he cheered with happiness that he could be the cause of such a smile. He so rarely pleased his father. A cold word and an even colder look of disdain is what he was usually returned. Maybe Lucius was finally beginning to see how hard Draco worked to please him.

He had gone with them when they raided the Granger's house that morning. He had watched, not allowed to participate, as his father and several others attacked the Grangers while they sat reading their Muggle newspapers. Hermione had been upstairs in her room as they began their attack. The sound of fighting alerted her to their presence but it was too late. They cornered her in the hallway and though she provided feeble resistance, it had been relatively easy to kidnap her. A few Crucio curses and a simple Bewitched Sleep spell and Hermione was out cold. With a whispered "Morsmorde" the Dark Mark blazed brightly. They all left using their own portkeys, returning to their various hiding places in relative safety.

Lucius stood over Hermione's prone form, his polished boots nudging her ribcage and jostling her from her faded consciousness. She struggled to keep her eyes in focus and clear her head so that she could think quickly. But her mind was so clouded and her head hurt. She cautiously reached up and touched the place where her head had met with the floor. Her hand came back sticky with blood. She chanced a glance at Lucius Malfoy who had moved across the room. He was removing something from the far wall. The dim light didn't quite reach that portion of the room, but she could see the shiny reflection of the torches dancing on metal. They were weapons of some sort she guessed and didn't want to further imagine Lucius Malfoy's intentions with them.

The scrape of metal cut through the silence. Hermione knew better than to try to stand up and aggravate the Malfoy's. So she opted simply to sit on the cold floor with her hands resting on the ground beside her. Her foot hurt terribly and she knew that it was broken. She couldn't have run away even if she'd had the opportunity. Draco was watching her while Lucius tested out different blades. Panic was replaced with resignation and while it wasn't in her nature to give up calmly, she knew that it was futile. If they wanted to kill her they would. And, she certainly didn't want them to enjoy it more by fighting them.

It seemed that Lucius had finally chosen a blade, a shiny silver dagger with a large emerald encrusted on the hilt. He looked at Hermione and then back at his son with cold-blooded determination. Draco stood there by the chair he'd abandoned with a look of nervous curiosity on his face. Lucius sheathed the blade and tossed it nonchalantly across the room to his only son and ordered, "You are going to prove your worth tonight, Draco. You have the pleasure of killing the dirty Mudblood as the final part of your initiation."

Hermione watched as Draco hesitated at first and looked for a moment like he was going to refuse. But, his eyes became steel and his face hardened. He extracted the dagger from its leather sheath, examining it carefully before throwing the sheath on the ground. In two steps he was there beside her, pulling Hermione up from the ground, his hands like a clammy vice around her arm. She winced in pain as she was forced to put weight on her ankle. Draco raised the dagger and with her last ounce of fortitude she raised her brown eyes to his grey ones. For a brief moment she thought she saw him falter. He pressed the dagger to her throat anyway.


	4. Chapter Three: Confusion Settling In

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. This was really, really hard for me to write. I couldn't get it to go where I wanted it to. So, I gave up and this is the result. But, I promise I will go back to my normal style in the next chapter. By the way, I just wanted to say "thank you" to all of you that reviewed. You have no idea how much it meant to me to read all of them. It made all of the horrors of writing this chapter worthwhile! Thanks again!

Old Moon Fades

Last Chapter:

_Hermione watched as Draco hesitated at first and looked for a moment like he was going to refuse. But, his eyes became steel and his face hardened. He extracted the dagger from its leather sheath, examining it carefully before throwing the sheath on the ground. In two steps he was there beside her, pulling Hermione up from the ground, his hands like a clammy vice around her arm. She winced in pain as she was forced to put weight on her ankle. Draco raised the dagger and with her last ounce of fortitude she raised her brown eyes to his grey ones, and for a brief moment she thought she saw him falter. He pressed the dagger to her throat anyway. _

Chapter 3:

Draco tore his eyes from hers in frustration and refocused his attention on her throat where his father's dagger was pressed. He had to do it. It was simple, just keep pressing the blade to her neck until it drew blood, then tear into her throat and slice a clean line from one ear to the other. One ear to the other. Simple. He applied pressure and lightly pierced the skin. Blood trickled down her neck. Red blood. Red like his, like his father's. The deep color seemed to seep into his brain, turning everything in his mind to red. The boldness of her blood distracted him. It shouldn't be so red.

She was a Mudblood. Her blood should not match his color for color, if anything her blood was even more pure looking than his. The thought of blood had never truly crossed his mind, lineage yes, but not blood. And Granger's was so perfectly red. It was the perfection of it that had Draco so addled. Draco looked up at her face, his eyes full of questions he couldn't voice. She was looking back at him, her expression of disbelief and confusion mirroring his own. Draco tried but he couldn't keep his gaze from returning to her neck. The column of her throat was perfectly white except for the blood that was now drying on her skin. It was still red.

"Draco!"

He had momentarily forgotten his father standing only a few feet away. Confusion had settled into his entire body and it seemed to Draco that he had no control of his reactions. But, he turned toward his father while still looking at Granger, "Father?" He couldn't seem to control his voice either and it cracked and sounded uneasy in his ears.

"Draco, do it! Kill the Mudblood! What are you waiting for?" Lucius was furious, the utter contempt he held for his son now boiling over.

"I" Draco looked from his father to Granger. She was disheveled. Her hair was curling in the humidity of the underground chamber and her face was flushed. The blood was still there on her neck. Why didn't she wipe it off? Draco couldn't understand what exactly was going on. It was like his body had been taken over and he had no control over his actions. He wanted to do it, he wanted to kill her. He wanted to stab the damn blade into her neck and end her miserable life. He wanted to laugh in Potter's face when he learned what had happened to his best friend. He wanted to show the Weasel exactly what happened when pure-bloods consorted with Mudbloods. He wanted to do all these things and he couldn't.

The dagger clattered to the floor, the sound resonating in the absolute quiet of the room. He didn't notice it fall. Draco was vaguely aware of Granger cautiously taking a step back and away from him. He didn't move to stop her. He wanted to back away from himself too.

"You worthless fool. You never could do anything right," Lucius' voice was cold and harsh like a frozen winter's night. He stalked over to where Draco stood in the center of the dark, damp room. His fist slammed hard into the side of Draco's face above his cheekbone. The force of the blow sent Draco falling to his knees. As soon as he hit the ground, his father was jerking him back up again. His head snapped backward as he was dealt a second blow but he didn't fall. He could taste blood in his mouth as it slid down his face. He wondered vaguely if Granger's blood would taste the same.

Again his father's voice broke into his thoughts, "Pick it up." The dagger. When had he dropped it? He looked down at his hands, they were empty. The dagger lay discarded several feet from Granger. She seemed to notice it at that moment too but she didn't make a move to retrieve it. Draco pulled his eyes from her and refocused on his father.

"Pick it UP!" Lucius grabbed him by the back of his dark robes and shoved him toward the dagger.

No. He didn't want to. He wasn't sure why. All he knew was that he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill her. The logical part of his mind wanted him to, was begging him to. But, there was another part, a tiny voice in his mind that he had always shoved to the back in order to silence it. It seemed that the voice wasn't going to be ignored any longer.

"No." The word was out of his mouth before he had even thought it. What was he doing?! His father wanted him to kill Granger. He had wanted this from the moment he saw her. He wanted to see her blood spilled on the cold marble floor. His father wanted him to do it. Draco tried to take a step toward the dagger. He put his foot down in front of him and shifted his weight in order to take the step that would lead him to everything he wanted in the world. Acceptance from the Death Eaters. The knowledge that he had stripped Hogwarts of its finest student. The elation that would come with seeing Saint Potter and the Weasel's faces when they heard the news. But, more than all of those things Draco wanted to please his father. He wanted to prove himself worthy.

But his feet weren't obeying him. The dagger still lay across the room by Granger. Why didn't she try to pick it up? It was right there beside her, only a few steps away. If she bent down, her fingers could touch it. As if reading his mind, she looked as if she had finally realized it was there. She looked down at it in fear, but still she didn't attempt picking it up. Her eyes met his across the room. Almost instantly the dagger flew from its resting place and landed in her hand. She actually seemed surprised that she was now holding it.

Lucius was beyond words. Without warning he swung at Draco sending him falling to the floor. Draco struggled to stand as his father calmly walked toward Granger. She seemed frozen in place at first, unsure of what exactly to do. All at once she seemed to remember the dagger. She gripped it tightly between white knuckles and raised it up toward Lucius' advancing form. Draco didn't think that she would actually use it. His father also seemed to sense her hesitation and he sneered in response. But, she didn't back down like he thought she would.

His father was now standing mere inches from Granger and was using his height to intimidate her. Draco saw the flicker of fear in her eyes though she quickly hid it. He wasn't even sure his father had noticed. When he looked back at her though, the fear was gone, replaced with grim determination. She raised her chin in defiance and clenched the dagger even tighter in her fist. He wasn't so sure now that she would hesitate to use it if given the opportunity. But Lucius didn't see it that way. Without warning he raised his fist and backhanded her across the face. She went flying. The dagger spun across the marble floor as if ice skating. It came to a sudden stop right at Draco's feet.

All eyes were on him as he stared down at the dagger. The emotions were boiling over and he didn't know what to do. If he picked it up he would have to kill Granger. He would please his father that way. He wanted so much to do it. But he didn't think that he could.

"Dracoâ pick it up," his father's voice was icy and held no warmth. Deep down Draco knew that he could never do enough to actually make his father proud of him, that he could spend his entire life trying and never come close to being the son his father wanted. It wasn't in Draco's nature to feel like he couldn't accomplish something. It also wasn't in his nature to back down.

He glanced back down at the dagger. It was still there, shining and winking back up at him. He bent down slowly. His fingers were cold and clammy as they wrapped carefully around the hilt. Draco stood up even more slowly and looked across the room at his father. Lucius had Granger by the back of her neck and was fiercely holding onto her arm.

He would do it. He would walk over to her and kill her. He would do it to please his father and to prove his allegiance to the Dark Lord. He would do it for the mark that was already branded on his arm and for everything that being a pureblood stood for. Draco would do it to prove to himself that he truly was worthy.

With purpose in his step and determination hardened into his face he walked over to her. All former doubts were gone. A calm resolve came over him and he knew that he must do it. The dagger was practically singing in his hand. He could feel it in his bones. This was the moment he had been waiting for his entire life. Right now. He would show the world what it was to be a Malfoy. He was the sole heir to the Malfoy name. He would prove his power.

His father must have recognized the change in him for he was now smiling. A genuine smile. A smile that a father gives his wayward son when he is finally obeying. The smile threw Draco off. A part of him wanted to shout in happiness, but another part, the calculating part of him knew that something was amiss. His father never smiled. He wouldn't smile now. But, he was. The smile hadn't faded. It was still there, teeth and all. It looked wrong on his face, like a distorted painting.

Draco came to a stop only a few feet away from them. With the dagger raised in his hand and his father's words edging him onward. He felt his destiny creeping up on him, the destiny that he had always known would one day come calling for him. He brought the dagger up over his head and looked one last time at Granger. The fear in her eyes was gone replaced withâ was it pity?

Who was she to pity him? He was the heir to the single most powerful wizarding family in Europe. He was the prince of Slytherin and had more wealth and power than _she_ could ever dream of having. He was Draco Malfoy, and who was she? A filthy mudblood. She was nothing. Anger settled like a darkening cloud over his entire being. He hated her with every portion of his soul; it filled him, warmed his skin and hands. The hate became hot and blistering and the heat from his fingertips heated the dagger. Unconsciously he was using his magic to feed his hunger for her death. The extreme heat of his anger was manifesting itself in the temperature of his body. But, the heat became too intense, it was burning him up from the inside. The dagger was now too hot to hold and he dropped it to prevent the scalding of his fingers.

This displeased his father. Lucius immediately lunged at his only son, unable to contain the anger that had been building in him all morning. Knowing Hermione was incapable of fleeing, Lucius took his time in punishing his son's disobedience. Draco had never been beaten as a child or even as a young man. In Pureblood society other, more severe punishments were exacted. Privileges were taken away. Allowances were cut back. Vacations were cancelled. No, Draco Malfoy had never been beaten before. He had also never directly disobeyed a matter as important as his initiation as a member of the Death Eaters.

Draco didn't even attempt defending himself. Lucius continued his assault while Hermione looked on, frozen in shock. It was sometime later that Lucius stopped. He had been yelling incoherently during the beating and neither Draco nor Hermione could make out what he had said. But, it was apparent to both of them what Lucius was now saying.

"Your mother will understand that I have to kill you now. It didn't work, all these years spent trying to mold you into the perfect symbol for our cause. You failed us. And now I have to kill you," the words were ice in Draco's ears.

"Father?"

"Don't you dare call me that! I have hated you for calling me your father, just as I have hated your mother for giving birth to you!"

Draco was beyond comprehension. He was staring numbly up at Lucius with shock and confusion written on his face.

"Don't stand there looking so dumb, Draco. You weren't ever to know your true parentage. Though, now that you know I'll have to kill you. It will make my life a little tiresome until I can obtain a new heir, but" Draco interrupted Lucius' speech.

"You're lying." Draco's voice was deadly and harsh.

Lucius laughed wickedly. "I assure you I am not. Now let's get this over with. Come here, Draco. I'll make it look like the Mudblood killed you," Lucius took a step closer to Draco and raised his wand. "Avada Kedav"

"NOOOO!!!"

Draco lunged at Lucius who was unable to finish the curse. But, just as Draco reached him Lucius doubled over, wheezing in pain. Draco seemed genuinely surprised and stopped short before him. Lucius looked back up at Draco from his place on the floor. Malice contorted his face as much as the pain was. He was now clutching the left side of his breast and his eyes were rolling. With his dying breath Lucius verbally abused his only heir one last time.

"Consider yourself a hunted man now, for all will soon know of your treachery. You may have won this battle but always know that ultimately you _will_ fail. The Dark Lord knows everything, my Half-Blood Prince" and with that Lucius Malfoy fell forward dead.

A/N: Like I said, this chapter was horrible to write. So, sorry if it doesn't make sense or seems like it is going in circles. I promise I will explain all the loose ends in the next couple of chapters. Also, I shouldn't take this long to post the next chapter. I would have gotten this one up sooner but I just couldn't make the characters do what I wanted them to. They were being extremely uncooperative. Please Review!


	5. Chapter Four: Layers Upon Layers

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this story. I do however own what I have written and all the ideas were my own. Thanks! Please REVIEW!!!

Old Moon Fades

Last Chapter:

_"Consider yourself a hunted man now, for all will soon know of your treachery. You may have won this battle but always know that ultimately you will fail. The Dark Lord knows everything, my Half-Blood Prince..." and with that Lucius Malfoy fell forward dead. _

Chapter 4:

It felt like she was under some sort of trance the way her body refused to move. Hermione's arms and legs were stiff and sore, and felt as if they were somehow detached from her body. The silence in the underground chamber was deafening. Her own breathing sounded like a roar in her ears compared to the permeating stillness of the room. And, as Lucius Malfoy's body hit the cold marble floor Hermione felt the spell lift of her. The fight or flight instinct took over and she desperately longed to get out of there. She wanted to run as fast and as far as her legs would take her. But, she knew that escape was impossible. There was no way she would be able to run anywhere, let alone walk on her ankle. She slowly sank to the floor. Her legs couldn't hold her up anymore.

Lucius Malfoy's cold, unseeing eyes stared at her from across the room. Gunmetal eyes filled with hatred even in death. Hermione didn't want to but forced herself to tear her eyes away from the dead man and look at her schoolmate. Her heart broke into a thousand tiny pieces when she saw him. Malfoy's legs were curled underneath him as he sat back on his feet. He rocked back and forth slowly as if in some mournful dance to a silent melody. There were no tears in his grey eyes, but they were darker than usual and appeared cloudy almost like an approaching storm.

The dichotomy of her emotions was very unsettling. One part of her wanted more than anything to go over to him and comfort him like she would Ron or Harry. The more rational side of her brain insisted that no matter what had happened in the last few minutes, no matter what she had heard or what had been said, he was still her enemy. He was still the same Malfoy no matter who his parents really were. She sided with the rational part. But, as she watched him from across the room her heart went out even as she trembled in fear of what was to come. The one thing she was certain of was that no matter what happened she had to get out of there.

Escape however seemed nearly impossible; if she had her wand she might be able to perform some kind of healing charm on her ankle and make a run for it. That might last her until she could find help. Nevertheless it was pointless as she still had no clue where her wand was. As far as she knew, Malfoy still had it tucked away somewhere in his robes. That left only one option. She had to retrieve the dagger. It lay quietly on the floor mere inches from Malfoy's shiny black boots.

The thought that more Death Eaters could possibly be on their way briefly crossed her mind. She pushed the thought away and focused on the here and now. If she thought too far ahead she was likely to drive herself insane. Concentrate. She slid across the floor slowly so as not to attract Malfoy's attention. He seemed to have forgotten her for the moment and that was just how she liked it.

It wasn't that far, only a few feet, but it seemed like so much farther. After what felt like an eternity she felt her fingers wrap around the edge of the blade. Hermione's hand grasped vigilantly onto the hilt as she tucked it safely away into her empty wand pocket. Now, with some form of defense Hermione felt the panic that had been nearly overwhelming recede. She knew that there was no way that she could defeat Malfoy in a knife fight, but she was fairly confident that she could out-wit him. But, looking at him now, defeated and withdrawn, she didn't feel that he would pose much of a threat to her.

He looked up at her then, confusion and something else, something that she couldn't name, written on his face. A face that only a moment ago had held such malice and contempt for her and her kind. The hatred was still there, buried under layers upon layers of grey in his eyes, buried so deep that it made his eyes seem bottomless. The thought that she could lose herself in those eyes barely registered in her mind before it was captured and hidden away.

He didn't say anything. She was glad of it and at the same time it made her more nervous. Unaccustomed to distinct quiet, she longed to break the silence and yet couldn't form the words that could adequately describe the feelings that were charging the air like electricity. Sorrow. Anguish. Fear. Doubt. Hate. All of these were the feelings that accompany the consequences of lies and truths. Her body ached with keeping all the feelings inside. She longed to release them, to make them known. There was nothing between the two of them now as they both sat on the ancient marble floor. No secrets. No lies. Just air and breath and loss.

And Lucius Malfoy's corpse.

They both looked upon it now, all their emotions buried deep inside and visible only to each other. The walls that had been erected so strong and so tall were crumbling. The pedestal that Malfoy had been placed upon was falling out from under him. The wreckage threatened to drown them both. The hate was still there, proud and insolent as ever, but buried in the rubble and covered in confusion.

All at once it set in. Draco Malfoy had killed his father. But, how? Hermione's brain quickly jumped from thought to thought as she struggled to make sense of it. She looked from him to his father and back again. He hadn't used the knife. He hadn't cast a spell or curse. He'd only screamed as his father began the Killing Curse. Then Lucius Malfoy had fallen over clutching his heart. _How?!_

The answer came to her in a rush. Wandless Magic. Of course. It was obvious now that she had thought of it. With enough unfocused energy and the height of the emotions that Draco Malfoy had been feeling it was no wonder his father was dead. She was surprised that he hadn't inadvertently killed himself along with his father. Wandless Magic was extremely dangerous and required complete control. It took a powerful wizard to harness Wandless Magic and do even the simplest of magic. Malfoy must be very powerful indeed if he could manage that much without even meaning to.

The thought that he might have intended to kill his father didn't occur to Hermione. She knew deep down that he hadn't. He had been upset and confused, but he hadn't meant to kill him. The shock he was wearing so heavily on his shoulders was enough to prove to her that it had been an accident. A horrible accident. Hermione knew at once that she should feel something other than acceptance of what had happened. She knew that she should feel horrified and sickened. It was a shock to her that she didn't feel any of those things. In fact, she was glad of his death.

His voice was small and like a little boy's when he spoke. "What have I done?" He was looking at her as if she weren't his enemy but simply some stranger. He didn't expect an answer and she didn't give one. She just looked at him blindly. Guilt was everywhere, in every inch of his posture and demeanor. It shackled him with invisible chains and cowed him before his father's dead body. His voice was just as quiet as before as he spoke again.

"They'll be coming for me soon." The Death Eaters or the Ministry? Hermione prayed silently that it would be the Ministry. She wondered who Malfoy hoped it would be. He couldn't go back to them. Not now. Not after killing his father and disobeying a direct order from Voldemort. And she was still alive. Hermione looked down at her hands just to make sure.

As if reading her thoughts he said almost apologetically, "I didn't kill you." He seemed as genuinely shocked as she was. The fact that he was talking to her at all was proof enough of the insanity of the situation. It was laughable really if you thought about it, the two of them sitting together after everything that had happened. There they were, acting almost friendly with Lucius Malfoy's body only a few feet away while they sat talking together as if none of it was real. But, the cuts and bruises covering their bodies were proof enough that it had been real.

The mental reminder of her injuries made her wince in pain. The boots she had chosen that morning for their practicality were incredibly tight around her ankle and she wished she could remove them. But she knew that they were probably the only thing keeping her bones in place at the moment. Malfoy looked just as bad as she imagined she herself looked, if not worse. His face was mottled with dark purple bruises and blood seeped from a wound over his right eye. His white-blond hair hung limp over his forehead. She didn't look at his mouth.

Suddenly there was a banging at the door. They both turned toward it, their faces sharing the same look of apprehension and resolve. The sound of spells and voices made Hermione's ears ring in comparison to the deafening silence of before. The door knob was rattling but they still couldn't get in. She looked quickly over at Malfoy who was adjusting his robes and smoothing his hair. "Vain til the end," she thought.

He stood up slowly and released the charm on the door that kept it locked against intruders. Was it the Ministry coming to their rescue or Voldemort come to kill them both? Hermione prayed it was the former. Malfoy was unreadable about his preference. Maybe he wanted death to come for him...

The door opened excruciatingly slow, each second dragged on for minutes. Time and space stood still as everything rushed around her. All of a sudden there were arms lifting her from the ground and checking her injuries. Someone prodded her ankle and she gasped with the pain. She didn't care if they ripped her foot from her body, she was safe.

She heard someone demand to know what had happened. Lucius Malfoy's body was quickly covered in a thick woolen cloak and only his dragon-hide boots poked out from beneath it. Voices were whispering harshly and people were running about the room inspecting and categorizing evidence. No one was paying any attention to her anymore and so she stayed where she was on the floor.

Something shiny caught her eye. The Malfoy crest was residing on one of Lucius Malfoy's cold dead fingers, begging her to release it. The intricate design of a snake encircling a very proud "M" was carved onto the surface of the signet ring. A quick glance around the room proved that they were still ignoring her. Taking advantage of their lack of attention to her she slipped the ring from his finger into her pocket. She felt a small clunk as it nestled down next to the dagger.

Malfoy stood on the other side of the room being interrogated by several members of the Order of the Phoenix. She instantly recognized Nymphadora Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody. The others she didn't know. Mad Eye was vigorously shaking his head, his magical eye rolling in his head. Tonks was staring hard at Malfoy with her arms crossed across her chest and her hair a vivid green that contrasted with the dark colors of the room. She wondered what was being said and could only catch snatches of the heated conversation. Malfoy's voice was quiet but forceful. It held remorse but wasn't overly shameful.

"... Didn't want to... part of my initiation... couldn't do it... Accident..."

She was surprised that he was telling the truth, or at least seeming to. His head was held high as he seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. Tonks seemed to melt a bit from Malfoy's account of the events. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, but only for the briefest of seconds. Mad Eye didn't seem as convinced but nodded his head in reluctant acceptance of Malfoy's story. He made to move but a noise from the door stopped the entire group.

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, stepped boldly into the room. He took one look at the covered body on the floor and did a quick assessment of Hermione and Malfoy's wounds. He ran a quick hand through his rumpled grey hair after removing his lime green bowler hat and looked over at Mad Eye Moody.

His voice boomed when he demanded, "What the hell happened here?!" Moody turned from questioning Malfoy and focused his attention on the Minister of Magic. When Moody didn't say anything in response to his question, Fudge yelled, "Whose body is that and how the hell did he die?!"

One look at Draco Malfoy would have been answer enough. The guilt was so painfully evident that even a blind person could have seen it. Fudge walked the few steps toward the body and lifted a corner of the cloak to reveal the face of the dead man. He dropped the cloth quickly and stepped back amazed and bewildered.

Again he asked, "What happened? Was it You-Know-Who?" Fudge's voice went quiet with that question as if he feared the Dark Lord was somewhere still in the room, hidden in the shadows.

It was certainly a shock to Hermione when Malfoy took a step forward and with a voice that was just as quiet as Fudge's had been and even more compunctious than during his interrogation with Moody, he said, "I did it. It was an accident. I'm not really sure how it happened or what I did, but I did it. I killed him. I killed my father."

The words hung in the air, ominous and cold. Fudge seemed genuinely stunned as did the others. It was something that a Malfoy had never done before. Draco Malfoy owned up to a crime, and not just any crime, but the worst sort of crime in the Wizarding world. He had used magic to kill. That Lucius Malfoy had been evil and cruel and was an escaped convict didn't matter in the least. That he had wanted his only son to kill for him, for the Dark Lord didn't matter. All that mattered in the eyes of the Ministry was that he had been murdered and that his son had just confessed to killing him.

Fudge came alive in that next instant and what he said next baffled all the people standing in the room. "Draco Malfoy, I place you under arrest for the murder of your father, Lucius Malfoy, and for violating the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery." A slight nod toward the door and the room was filling with several members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. Shortly thereafter Malfoy was restrained with magical bindings. He didn't seem very upset or even very surprised about his arrest. In fact, he was very acquiescent, not resisting or even defying Fudge.

Tonks vehemently voiced her objections and tried unsuccessfully to give Fudge Malfoy's side of the story. That it had been an act of self-defense and was completely accidental didn't change his mind. Fudge waved her off with a flick of his wrist and with a barely perceptible nod of his head the Law Enforcement Squad was hauling Malfoy away to Azkaban.

A/N: Okay, sorry to end there... I hope to have the next chapter up by the end of the weekend or the beginning of next week at the latest. I can't make any promises, but I will do my best! I am also working with my beta Grim Star on editing the first couple of chapters, so please bear in mind that this was an unedited version. Please Review and let your friends know about the story if you like it! Thanks for all the wonderful comments! Taigan


	6. Chapter Five: Reporters are Vultures

Disclaimer: Do I really have to write one of these for every chapter? I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters. The ideas in this story are mine however, so I do claim ownership of them. Don't sue me.

Short A/N: My beta has abandoned me, if anyone is interested in the job, please owl me. I just need someone to proof read before I post. If you are interested please let me know!

Old Moon Fades

Last Chapter:

_Fudge came alive in that next instant and what he said next baffled all the people standing in the room. "Draco Malfoy, I place you under arrest for the murder of your father, Lucius Malfoy, and for violating the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery." A slight nod toward the door and the room was filling with several members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. Shortly thereafter Malfoy was restrained with magical bindings. He didn't seem very upset or even very surprised about his arrest. In fact, he was very acquiescent, not resisting or even defying Fudge. _

_Tonks vehemently voiced her objections and tried unsuccessfully to give Fudge Malfoy's side of the story. That it had been an act of self-defense and was completely accidental didn't change his mind. Fudge waved her off with a flick of his wrist and with a barely perceptible nod of his head the Law Enforcement Squad was hauling Malfoy away to Azkaban._

Chapter 5: Reporters are Vultures

Coming out of a sleeping draught was not an entirely pleasant experience, but Hermione fought the muddled feeling and tried to regain her sense of self. What had happened? Where was she? The events of that morning came back to her suddenly. The familiarity of St. Mungo's was a great relief. It meant she wasn't dead. She had made it out alive. But, her body was telling her a completely different story.

Her head ached. Tentatively she reached up with a bandaged hand and felt of her skull. Chilled fingers met with thick gauze and tender flesh. The back of her head was still sore from the fall she had taken earlier in the day. Hermione didn't need to feel of her face to know that it was bruised and bloody and probably swelling. She winced as she tried rotating her jaw.

Noise from the hallway distracted her from her mental assessment of her injuries. Mediwitches were attempting to subdue Daily Prophet reporters clamoring to gain clearance to speak with her. Amongst the noise, the recognition of one voice grabbed her attention. It was Dumbledore.

In long dark purple robes he walked into the room with the calming presence of a saint. The twinkle that typically resided in the corner of his eye was gone. His face was gaunt and tired. It seemed it had been a long day for him too.

"Professor, are my parents alright?"

Dumbledore nodded his head and informed her that they were indeed alright and were safely being taken care of on the fourth floor, Spell Damage. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had not been permanently injured and with time would most likely heal completely from their wounds. Relief flooded through her. She clamped her eyes closed to hold back the tears of joy. They were alive. Knowing that they were safe gave Hermione a renewed sense of wellbeing. When she opened her eyes again Dumbledore was watching her intently. She knew that he was just as curious about what had happened as the reporters were outside.

Quickly and efficiently he questioned her as to what exactly had happened in the underground chamber of Malfoy Manor. He was particularly interested in what had happened between Malfoy and his father. She told him that Lucius Malfoy had wanted his son to kill her as part of his initiation. She went on to say that Malfoy hadn't been able to do it and had even said no. She told of the fight that had ensued between the two of them but still Malfoy couldn't bring himself to actually kill her. She didn't mention what Lucius Malfoy had said about his son's true parentage.

Dumbledore conjured a chair next to her cot and sat down, his hand tugging on his snowy beard. Deep in thought, she thought for a moment that he had forgotten her. He came out of his reverie quite slowly and his eyes moved back toward her. Looking deep into her soul, she could feel him probing, questioning her mind. When he spoke his voice was chilled and almost pensive.

"Is there anything else you wish to tell me, Ms. Granger?"

The words were on the tip of her tongue. Hermione wanted to tell him. She wanted to set the burden of Malfoy's secret down at Dumbledore's feet. She wanted to. But, she couldn't, or wouldn't. She didn't want to think which one of those it was. The thought that she would keep a secret for Malfoy willingly, and not under the influence of a curse, was completely shocking to her. And, still Dumbledore was looking at her as if he knew what she wasn't telling him. Somehow she knew that it was impossible to keep a secret from him. After several minutes the inner battle Hermione was fighting with herself about whether to tell him or not ended. Dumbledore sighed audibly and shook his head minutely back and forth. When he looked at her again the invasive feeling she had felt moments before was gone. A small smile played on his face as he turned the conversation to less bothersome topics. He reached into one of the deep pockets of his purple robes and produced several chocolate frogs that he spread on the thin cotton blanket covering Hermione's legs. She reached down and unwrapped one, catching the frog before it hopped away. Popping a leg into her mouth, she listened as Dumbledore settled more comfortably into his chair and filled her in as to the mornings' news.

Apparently the information of her disappearance had become public knowledge and the fact that Draco Malfoy had been arrested only served to fuel the gossip that was now running rampant in the city. Though the details were very vague, the general backbone of the rumor was quite accurate. Hermione Granger had been abducted from her home by the escaped Death Eaters who were fulfilling the orders of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Draco Malfoy was being held in custody by the Ministry of Magic for reasons unknown. The fact that Lucius Malfoy was dead seemed to still be a secret.

Even now the reporters were swarming around her hospital room like vultures. Their heads were bobbing trying to peek through the little window in her door. Mediwitches in their bright green uniforms scurried about attempting to shoo them away while still going about their own business. Dumbledore smiled a hollow smile as they watched the scene unfold outside the door. One errant photographer was especially persistent and managed to barge his way through the barricade all the way to the door. The handle was rattling as he tried to force himself through the magical barriers that Dumbledore had effortlessly placed around the room upon his arrival. Hermione imagined that he had placed Silencing spells on the room as well. She watched as the mediwitches gathered around the photographer and escorted him away.

After several minutes of comfortable silence, Dumbledore stood from his chair. It vanished into the air as he walked calmly toward the door. The twinkle that had been absent for much of their meeting was back, flickering brightly. The corners of his mouth turned up in a half smile.

"I'm sure you will be pleased to know, Ms. Granger, that you surpassed even my own expectations this past year and have earned yourself an astounding number of OWL's. Maybe that knowledge will bring you a small bit of comfort in the midst of all this disorder," with that said, Dumbledore turned from the room and walked out into the chaos of the hallway.

As the door opened camera flashbulbs went off like fireflies. Hermione sank back into the pillows a small smile playing on her face. She bit the other leg off the chocolate frog and nibbled on it. The collectible card lay face down on the blanket. Idly, she flipped it over still thinking about her OWL results. The wizard card was labeled Paracelsus. The quite wizard smiled up at her and said, "Congratulations!" The thought that she should save it to give to Ron crossed her mind and she slipped it into her pocket.

At the Burrow:

Ron was going spare with worry and rivaled even Mrs. Weasley in nerves. When the news came that Hermione was alright and that she was at St. Mungo's, he thought he was going to cry tears of happiness. He and Harry had still been in the garden when Tonks showed up shaken and more than a little unnerved. When they heard the crack that accompanied Apparation, they ran from the garden into the house to investigate.

Tonks stood in the kitchen surrounded by the red-haired Weasley clan. Without giving away too much classified information she informed everyone that Hermione was safe and that she had been at Malfoy Manor as predicted. The fact that Lucius Malfoy was dead seemed to be the greatest shock to all of them. Ron's mother sat down hard in a kitchen chair and Ron stood immobile as he let the implications slowly sink in. Just as they had begun to process that small bit of information, Tonks laid the knowledge of the younger Malfoy's arrest at their feet.

Ron immediately turned a vivid red and let loose a string of curses that even his mother was unable to process at the moment. His words went unheeded however as Tonks elaborated on the reasons for his arrest. Malfoy had killed his father. He had saved Hermione and was on his way to Azkaban as far as any of the Order knew.

"That's a lie."

The words were out before he had thought them. Tonks suddenly turned toward him in shock as if realizing for the first time that he was there, that any of them were there. Molly stood up quickly and gathered her tattered shawl about her shoulders.

"Ronald! How dare you insult Nymphadora! And, you not even being there to know what happened!" Molly had pulled herself to her full height and was throwing daggers at her youngest son with her eyes.

Ron mumbled an apology but continued to grumble under his breath. If anyone heard him they didn't comment on it. The discussion continued on but switched to where the other Death Eaters may possibly be hiding. Ron wanted to listen in and try to glean as much information as possible out of the conversation, but found that he couldn't concentrate. He finally gave up and left the room walking back out to the garden to mull things over.

Harry and Ginny followed him out shortly. Harry stayed where he was by the door while Ginny moved to sit down on a low bench. Unceremoniously she plucked leaves off of a short shrub and twisted them between her fingers grinding them to a juicy green pulp. Neither of them dared make eye-contact with Ron for fear of setting him off. Finally it was Ron who broke the silence.

"I don't believe it. Harry, you remember what that slimy git said second year. He hoped she died. " Ron howled his frustration.

Harry nodded his head but didn't say anything.

Ginny apparently felt brave enough to venture, "All we can do now is wait to hear from Hermione and hopefully find out what really happened there. The only people who know what went on in that room are Malfoy and Hermione now."

A/N: I'm terribly sorry that this chapter was so short and so long in coming. I came down with a bug and hardly felt up to writing. But, I am feeling much better now (not that anyone cares of course!) and will hopefully have the next chapter up within the week. Thanks again to all my reviewers; you truly make this an enjoyable experience! If you are a first time reader, please let me know what you think so that I can improve in any way! Taigan

Next Chapter: It's all about our favorite wizard, Malfoy! Well, that's the tentative plan anyway.


	7. Chapter Six: Change What's Coming

A/N: Thanks for the reviews... In answer to Donnydarkobunnylover's question, I had hoped you would miss that! But, don't worry I will explain all soon, not in this chapter but possibly the next. Just so you know Hermione didn't perform wandless magic. So, that leaves only two people in the room and one of them is dead... any guesses? For now, Read and Review. If you have any more questions, I will try my best to answer them.

Disclaimer: Harry and co. are not mine, they belong exclusively to JKR. I wish I made money off of this, but I don't.

Old Moon Fades

Last Chapter:

"_I don't believe it. Harry, you remember what that slimy git said second year. He hoped she died. " Ron howled his frustration._

_Harry nodded his head but didn't say anything. _

_Ginny apparently felt brave enough to venture, "All we can do now is wait to hear from Hermione and hopefully find out what really happened there. The only people who know what went on in that room are Malfoy and Hermione now." _

Chapter 6: Change What's Coming

Contrary to popular opinion, Draco Malfoy was not on his way to Azkaban Prison. Not yet anyway. But, he was on his way to the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Looking in front of him, he could tell that Fudge was nervous. The Minister of Magic kept trying to smooth the non-existent wrinkles in his pin-striped suit and Malfoy could hear him muttering under his breath as if attempting to convince himself that he was following the proper course of action. No doubt he was merely thinking of how this situation would sway public opinion as to his performance as the Minister. Everyone knew that since the return of You-Know-Who, Fudge had been walking a thin line with the public, a very thin line indeed. With a wave of his hand a jerk of his chin, he led them off through the Atrium on the eighth level and down the lifts to the second.

Malfoy was calm and collected, outwardly unfettered as the group made their way from the lifts and then through the hallways of the Ministry. People froze in place and others whispered to each other behind their hands as the Minister led the assembled members of the Law Enforcement Squad and a magically restrained Malfoy through the busy corridors. Apparently the news had spread and witnessing the spectacle only seemed to add fire to the flames of gossip that were now raging in Wizarding London. Though his father had been a favorite person of the press and the Malfoy name was renowned as one of the oldest and most notable in Britain, young Draco Malfoy was relatively untried when it came to reporters. This was the first time he had been the center of any scandal or gossip, and he was bloody sure going to make the most of it and possibly sway some of the public opinion in his own direction. He loved the attention.

People stopped and pointed, one lady even dropped her bag with the astonishment. Her voice was nasal and croaked out, "Is that the young Malfoy boy who was just arrested?" And so, he nodded to the congregating witches and wizards, rattling his invisible chains, with the corners of his mouth lifting in silent greeting as he passed them in the hallway. They seemed to not know what to make of this. Their confusion evident on their faces, their mouths hanging agape as if poised to ask, "Why is he smiling if he's just been arrested?" They turned to each other barely containing their whispers now, their voices edging higher and higher. The din of the hallway was loud. That was precisely the reaction that Malfoy wanted. Doubt began creeping into the minds of the public. Soon they would rush off to tell their friends that they had just seen Draco Malfoy being hauled away by the Minister of Magic of all people, and to top it all off, he had SMILED at them, well smirked anyway.

Within minutes they had arrived at the Department for Magical Law Enforcement offices. Light from the windows shone brightly and Malfoy recognized immediately that they were charmed to give the appearance of the outside world. False-sunlight filtered through and seemed almost garish compared to dank surroundings. He was lead through the large room filled with cubicles, and the few Aurors that actually had office-duty that day stood up to catch a glimpse of him as he walked by. He was taken through a much smaller room. Arthur Weasley poked his bright red head out of an adjacent office and started in surprise, his eyes questioning why Malfoy wasn't already in Azkaban. Malfoy sneered in greeting. Weasley raised his chin in defiance of the high-handed manner that had become a designated Malfoy characteristic, and watched as they turned the corner. Before Malfoy realized what they were doing, they had filed into a tiny broom cupboard. He bumped into the Minister's back and almost fell.

"What _is_ going on?" Malfoy's voice was highly annoyed and his patience was running thin of this parade through the Ministry.

"We are on our way to my office, young Mr. Malfoy," came the clipped reply from the Minister.

"A broom cupboard? I thought we had donated more than enough money to warrant a proper office for the Minister of Magic. If my father knew that..." Malfoy cut himself off at the reminder of the reason why he was actually standing in the broom cupboard.

His remark however went ignored and the remaining law enforcement squad officers filed into the already cramped room. The Minister was facing away from the door and began muttering under his breath. He hastily began shuffling the brooms around and rearranging them again in a different order. Finally satisfied he reached into his pocket and produced his wand. Touching it to an utterly unremarkable spot on the wall between two brooms the Minister bellowed, "Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic."

As if acknowledging their presence, the wall opened revealing an ornately carved wooden staircase and balustrade. Malfoy followed the Minister down the steps and through another set of doors. A middle-aged woman sat behind a large desk and looked up at them smiling as they walked into the room. Malfoy was then ushered into another room, apparently the Minister's own offices.

Fudge walked around a bulky desk that sat in the middle of the room and sat down in the comfy looking leather chair behind it. A quick glance around the room showed portraits of the previous Ministers and a few hunting scenes. The painting closest to him revealed a fox trying its best to outrun several wizards on horseback chasing after it, magical bows raised and arrows notched. He wondered briefly if the fox had to outrun the wizards indefinitely or if the fox ever once had the chance to rest. He studied the painting absently while the woman, presumably the Minister's secretary, whispered conspiratorially with her boss. She nodded her head at one of the Minister's questions and a few seconds later stood up abruptly and looked right at Malfoy shock and interest fighting a battle on her face. He smirked approachably in response. The Minister asked her another question and she reluctantly answered with a shake of her head. Her earrings jingled with the motion. Fudge nodded his head and waved her off. She gathered several pieces of loose parchment off of the desk and hugged them to her chest and hurried out of the room, closing the door as she left. The law enforcement officers stood casually by the door, arms crossed and wands ready.Fudge sat at his desk rifling through bits of parchment. He ripped the bowler hat from his head and tossed it down on a corner of the table. He made no move to acknowledge Malfoy's presence; in fact he seemed to be purposefully putting him off.

Malfoy cleared his throat. The Minister looked up at him then. Malfoy rattled the invisible bindings on his hands. "These are becoming exceedingly uncomfortable. I would like to have them removed. Now."

If the Minister found his tone to be disrespectful, he didn't say anything about it. He nodded his head toward the closest officer, and instantly the weight of the bindings was lifted. Malfoy unconsciously began rubbing his bruised wrists. Without being offered, he strode to one of the plush chairs in front of Fudge's desk and sat down. He was walking an increasingly thin line and he knew it, but wasn't about to back down. He would do his best performance of the condescending heir and make the Minister aware of his own rightful place. Nobody had to know the truth; nobody had to know that he really had no place. Except that bloody Granger. He pushed the thought away and all the feelings that accompanied it. He would think about all that later when he was back home at Malfoy Manor. But, for now he resigned himself to deal with this slight problem of his arrest and the subsequent murder of his father.

Malfoy casually laid a hand across the arm of the chair and leaned back, adopting the pose of a proper pure-blood heir unfazed by the title and privilege of the Minister. He cleared his throat and waited for the Minister to reach a similar level of calm. Indeed, Fudge seemed to be fighting a losing battle as to what he actually needed to do now that he had Malfoy in his office. After a moment of re-sorting the growing stack of parchment towering on his desk, Fudge finally turned his attention to Malfoy.

"So, Mr. Malfoy... Would you like to explain to me what exactly went on this morning?" His voice was strong but his hands betrayed him. They were wringing. Fudge was still nervous. Malfoy noted this and decided to play off of it. He had no intention of getting sentenced to Azkaban. With enough money thrown in his face Fudge would acquiesce to any of Malfoy's demands. He'd have to come up with some way to get Granger to keep quiet about it but he'd think about that later. Right now he had to convince the Minister.

He was poised to make an offer in order for the whole ordeal to be quietly covered up when the door opened. The secretary was yelling, "You can't go in there without the Minister's approval!"

Dumbledore stormed into the office, his white beard trailing behind him. The Minister stood up hastily and chuckled nervously. "Dumbledore... I wasn't expecting you."

"Indeed you were not," came the curt reply. Dumbledore was angry, that much was blatantly obvious. Though why he was so angry, Malfoy couldn't even begin to conceive of. He sat back and studied the two wizards carefully. Dumbledore moved to sit in the other chair without waiting for the Minister's permission. After adjusting his long purple robes and smoothing his beard, Dumbledore looked across to Fudge. Fudge had an incredibly guilty look on his portly face. It seemed he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, so to speak.

When Fudge opened his mouth to speak the old Headmaster silenced him. "I believe you acted rather hastily this morning, Cornelius."

Having had his transgressions pointed out so palpably only served to escalate the Minister's nerves. Before he could even attempt to defend his actions Dumbledore interjected.

"Mr. Malfoy _will _be given a proper hearing in front of the entire assembled Wizengamot, of that I am certain. This situation will not be merely swept under the rug, so to say. If dark forces are at work they will be weeded out and dealt with accordingly, Minister," the last word was enunciated so clearly that Malfoy's curiosity was immediately stirred. Could the Minister be in league with the Dark Lord? No, certainly not was Malfoy's initial response. For one, he was too intelligent to be caught. For another, he was too reliant on public opinion to ever let certain allegiances ever escalate to that level. Fudge was a man of ambition. He had accepted Lucius Malfoy's donations and subsequent badgering on certain issues because alliances with particular families only served to further his own career. So, what was going on? It appeared that Malfoy wasn't going to get his answer today however. But, he was a patient man. He could wait it out for awhile at least.

The Minister reluctantly agreed to Dumbledore's demands. It wasn't as if he had any choice really, not now that he had been made a fool for the whole situation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Fudge was putting on a highly offended face but his true feelings betrayed him however when his elbow slipped and the massive tower of parchment flew off his desk and scattered across the floor. Dumbledore stood slowly and turned to Malfoy for the first time since his arrival. He gestured one arm toward the door.

Malfoy stood and didn't give the Minister a backward glance. He followed Dumbledore out of the office. They left a different way than he had originally come in. They made their way around the staircase toward the back corner of the room. Malfoy glanced back at the secretary before going through the door Dumbledore held open for him. The Minister's door was still standing open and the secretary was picking up the loose paper from the floor. The Minister sat with his head in his hands. Turning from them, Malfoy followed Dumbledore through the door.

They entered the Headmaster's offices at Hogwarts. Malfoy started in surprise and turned to Dumbledore questioningly. The old Headmaster simply smiled at him and gestured to a seat in front of his desk. Malfoy sat.

"Having a door that leads directly into the Minister's office has come in quite handy in the past. I hope you can keep this bit of knowledge a secret, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy nodded his head. Dumbledore was looking intently at him and Malfoy felt a growing sense of mental invasion. He shook his head to rid the feeling and stared back at the Headmaster. The next hour was spent going over meticulously the events of that morning at Malfoy Manor. It was frustrating talking in circles. He felt as though he had spent the last week explaining what had happened. Dumbledore simply sat there listening, occasionally interjecting with a question or two. Malfoy gave Dumbledore all the information he knew about dark magic objects that his father had kept around the house. He almost felt as if there was no point in keeping it a secret anymore. They would find out eventually with Aurors and Ministry officials going over every inch of the Manor with a fine toothed comb. If Dumbledore was surprised about Malfoy's sudden change of heart he didn't let on. Malfoy knew that his best course of action know would be to cooperate. He might could throw money at the Minister and expect to get away with murder, but not so with Dumbledore. The thought that he would be shunned in Slytherin when school recommenced did cross his mind, but he pushed the thought aside and concentrated on his own survival. But, even though he had given up all the information about his father and the events of that morning, he couldn't bring himself to say that he truly wasn't the heir of Lucius Malfoy. He kept one secret that day. Finally after what seemed like an hour or two, Dumbledore sat back in his chair and signaled the end of the interrogation.

"So, what happens now?" Malfoy asked woodenly.

Dumbledore smiled hollowly and said, "I think it would be best for you to spend the remainder of summer holiday here at Hogwarts. Ministry officials will be at Malfoy Manor for quite some time trying to find evidence and build a case against you. Your mother has been relocated to your summer home in France. It seems she took the news rather well and has decided to spend the next few months away from the press."

Malfoy nodded. The real reason it was best for him to stay at Hogwarts hung unsaid in the air between them. He was a hunted man now, just like his father had said. The Dark Lord would know beyond a shadow of a doubt what had happened. He would know that one of his greatest followers had been slain, and by whom.

"I hope you don't mind, Mr. Malfoy, but I took the liberty of having your things sent here after word got out of what happened. You should find your dormitory arranged and waiting for you when you choose to retire."

Again Malfoy nodded. So, that was how it was going to be. He was now a prisoner inside Hogwarts.

"It might be a good idea to start preparing your defense for the hearing. I will keep you informed as to the current events surrounding the case, you can be sure," Dumbledore reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small card and handed it to Malfoy. "Here is a pass to the Restricted Section in the library, maybe you could start there."

"I think I will go and clean up a bit before I begin any major research, Professor. But, thanks," it wasn't just the library pass that Malfoy was thanking him for. In all actuality the Headmaster was going above the call of duty in assisting him in such a way. With all the enemies he had made in last day, he needed any ally he could find, and Malfoy was no longer above showing his appreciation. But, a veiled show of gratitude was about all he could manage.

Dumbledore showed him out and he made his way down to the dungeons. He was in desperate want of a shower. He could feel the grime from that morning and his muscles were stiff and tired. A shower sounded very appealing at the moment. He reached the doors to the dungeon and said the password. The doors didn't open. He said it again. Nothing. He went through the list of every possible password combination in his memory. Still the doors stood sealed.

A few minutes later when he informed the Headmaster of the incident, Dumbledore closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again they were glistening. "I was afraid of that."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope that the entrances to and from the Minister's office weren't too confusing. It has never been specifically stated how one gets to Fudge's office or even where it is located, so I looked around on the HP Lexicon and came up with my own way. It served my purposes to have a door leading from the Minister's office straight to Dumbledore's. Please Review!

Next time: The Hearing and the first meeting since the "incident" between Malfoy and Hermione.


	8. Chapter Seven: The Life I've Left Behind...

Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, neither do the locations. But, I do own this particular story. The title for this chapter is a lyric from a Sarah McLachlan song, "Sweet Surrender."

A/N: Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please Read/Review. I really appreciate all the positive comments I have received. Keep it coming! 

Old Moon Fades

Last Chapter:

_Dumbledore showed him out and he made his way down to the dungeons. He was in desperate want of a shower. He could feel the grime from that morning and his muscles were stiff and tired. A shower sounded very appealing at the moment. He reached the doors to the dungeon and said the password. The doors didn't open. He said it again. Nothing. He went through the list of every possible password combination in his memory. Still the doors stood sealed. _

_A few minutes later when he informed the Headmaster of the incident, Dumbledore closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again they were glistening. "I was afraid of that."_

Chapter 7: The Life I've Left Behind Me

The days leading up to the hearing went quite slowly indeed. Hermione remained at St. Mungo's for several more days following her kidnapping. Word soon spread that Lucius Malfoy was dead; the fact that the youngest Malfoy had been arrested only served to further the gossip and subsequently stir the reporters who all were wishing for possible leads in a story that could be the turning point of their careers. Flowers and cards arrived by the hundreds and eventually the nurses set up a staging area for the owls to carry their parcels. Hermione tired of the endless array of presents soon after they began arriving. Ron, Harry, and Ginny came to visit as soon as the mediwitches gave them clearance. Ron had been too upset at first to say anything and simply stood in the corner of the room idly plucking at a vase of flowers, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Harry sat in a plump green chair that was hidden behind the door and Ginny plopped herself down at the foot of Hermione's bed and immediately began rifling through the growing stack of letters. Mrs. Weasley stood outside the room as if guarding it after she had made sure that Hermione was indeed alright and that she wasn't injured too badly. She had been shooed from the room by Ginny and had reluctantly taken up her post in the hallway like a mother hen protecting her chicks.

"So, what happened?"

The question was blunt and very forward. Ron swung around as the words left Ginny's mouth, but he didn't say anything to chastise his younger sister. In fact, he looked up at Hermione expectantly. His eyes were filled with words he refused to express or even acknowledge. But, she saw them there. She felt them, warm and heavy, and at the same time sad and empty. She pulled her own eyes from his hastily and fixed them on Ginny who sat there waiting intently for an answer.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Hermione detailed the events of that morning, now several days later, as if reading from a book instead of sharing a life changing experience with her best friends. During her recitation Ginny had scooted closer and Harry leaned forward in his chair. Ron had moved further away and close to the door. He was no longer even looking at her. For that Hermione was relieved, it made the telling easier. She knew that it must have been deeply troubling for Ron especially.

By the end of the narration, her friends were completely quiet. Harry was far away, looking inward at some inner turmoil. No doubt reliving the experience they all had shared in the Department of Mysteries earlier that summer.

"It's all my fault," the words that escaped his lips were barely audible and filled with a stoicism that Hermione was shocked by.

Immediately she reached forward to cover his hand with her own, but Ginny beat her to it. Hermione pulled back slightly after Ginny leaned over and latched onto Harry's hand.

"None of this is your fault. Not this and certainly not what happened before. If anyone is to blame it's You-Know-Who," Ginny's voice was strong and held a sense of undeniable force behind it. Harry didn't contradict her, though it was obvious to Hermione that he didn't agree with her.

"She's right you know. They would have attacked me anyway. I'm muggleborn for one. And Malfoy has it in for me for as long as I can remember. This isn't your fault Harry. Don't blame yourself," Hermione tried reassuring her friend, but didn't think it did much good. She vowed to try again later.

Ron was still sulking in the corner but looked up as Hermione tried reasoning with Harry. The worn look was still in his eyes but he didn't look quite so hopeless. He even smiled somewhat hollowly at her and then ducked his head as his cheeks colored slightly.

There was a light knock at the door as Mr. Weasley poked his head in the room. Ginny hastily straightened and pulled her hand from atop Harry's. Arthur Weasley slowly began unwinding a brightly knitted scarf from around his neck and delicately draped it over his arm as he stepped into the room. Molly followed her husband into the hospital room and went immediately to Hermione's side. Ron moved away from the door and came to stand next to his father at the foot of the bed.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and searched Hermione's face before he began. The room stood silent and all its occupants waited with bated breath for his pronouncement. Molly edged him on with a nod of her head and a whispered encouragement.

"I've been asked to inform you that your presence will be required at Draco Malfoy's hearing. Since you are the only witness to what happened, your testimony is vital to the Wizengamot's decision of his fate."

He pulled a letter from his breast pocket and handed it over the bed to Hermione. With shaking fingers she grasped it. She turned it over slowly. The seal was unbroken and bore the seal of the Wizengamot.

She quietly asked, "When?"

"Tomorrow at one o'clock. The mediwitch already gave her permission. It took a letter directly from Amelia Bones explaining the necessity of your testimony in order for her to consent to release you in time for the hearing, but not a minute before."

Molly patted her on the back, "It'll be just fine dear. We can get you ready in plenty of time, can't we Ginny dear?" Molly looked down at Ginny expectantly.

"Oh, yes of course, Mum," Ginny replied quickly. Her bright red head bobbed up and down in affirmation.

"Good, now we will be here tomorrow before lunch time. Arthur will escort you to the Ministry, so you needn't worry about that," Molly squeezed Hermione's shoulder and then pulled herself to her full height. She walked toward her husband and latched onto his arm before turning to face them again. "We will give you three a few more minutes to say your goodbyes for the evening."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walked out of the room leaving Hermione and her three friends alone. Ginny was studying her, her eyes honing in on whatever she might pick up from Hermione's body language or facial expressions. Harry was staring past her, distant and contemplative. Ron was looking anywhere but at her. His hands were balled up in fists and his jaw was set. She could practically hear his teeth grinding. But, still he refused to meet her eyes.

She glanced back down at the envelope in her hands. Up until this point she had firmly put the entire incident away and had refused to think on it. It was entirely uncharacteristic of her. She most always dealt with things immediately. Not this time, not when she couldn't make sense herself of what had happened. Not when she was too afraid of the consequences of those thoughts. That morning everything had changed. Every idea and concept she had held of the world and of the people in it had abruptly been shattered. Her entire belief system lay in ruins all because of what had happened in that underground chamber at Malfoy Manor.

If only he hadn't shone compassion and the hint of feelings underneath that steel armor he surrounded himself in. If only she hadn't glimpsed what lay beneath that armor. A soul. A soul that wasn't black and hard like she had always known. It might be tarnished and lost but it certainly wasn't warped and twisted. That fact disconcerted her more than even she realized. Not only had she made an egregious mistake in the judgment of his character but she had committed a fundamental error in the judgment of her own. For as long as she could remember she had prided herself on her unbiased opinions of others and her forward thinking regarding equality and human worth. And now, had she not also committed a sin as great as those she despised so much? She had viewed Malfoy as a self righteous and desperately misguided boy completely directed by the beliefs of his social class. And he had proved her wrong. When put to the test in a dire situation he had denied his father and in doing so, the entire basis of his existence. In that underground room as his father ordered her death Malfoy had put his own life in danger in defense of beliefs he probably didn't even know he had. He had seemed genuinely surprised by his own rebellion. This turn of events made Hermione realize that nothing was set in stone.

"Hermione!"

Ginny pulled her out of her reverie. When she looked up all three of her friends were carefully watching her. She had momentarily forgotten them in the room with her. Harry had stood up and was standing close to Ron by the door. He moved closer when Ginny spoke.

"Hermione, are you ok?"

She didn't know what to say. She didn't know anything at that moment. Her entire world was in absolute chaos. All the things that had happened were fresh in her mind. Her parents getting attacked. Her own kidnapping. Lucius Malfoy's death. The revelation about Malfoy's true parentage. The upcoming hearing. She whispered aloud the phrase that was repeating itself over and over in her head, "What am I going to do?"

Ginny reached over and clutched her hand. Ron and Harry fidgeted. Before she realized what was happening she was sobbing. Great body wracking sobs. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see. The salty taste of tears filled her mouth as she gasped in large quantities of air in an attempt to keep from suffocating. She was vaguely aware of Ginny fiercely grabbing hold of her in a hug. She clung to her friend, began pulling on her jumper. Ginny whispered quietly in her ear that everything would be alright. Sometime later Hermione was aware of settling back on the pillows. Ginny smoothed some hair from her face and patted her hand. If Hermione had opened her eyes to notice she would have seen tears in Ginny's eyes and a look of stony determination in Harry's. She would have seen Ron leave the room because he couldn't stand the stifling emotions that were eating him up. But, Hermione didn't see any of these things. She was lost in an inner nightmare that was frighteningly real. Ginny pulled the blankets up and rearranged them more comfortably around Hermione's legs. Harry whispered a goodbye and he and Ginny shut the door behind them as they left.

Sleep slipped up on her shortly thereafter. She woke in the middle of the night, the fragments of a dream escaping her. Fitfully she regained unconsciousness and fell back into a hard slumber. When she woke the following morning she felt sick. Her eyes were swollen and her entire body was sore.

Hermione hesitantly sat up in the bed. Her feet hit the cold stone floor, the chill creeping up her legs and over her spine. She reached for her dressing gown draped across the footboard of the bed and wrapped it around herself. She went to the sink in the corner and splashed water on her face. This did little to soothe the tension she felt building in her body.

The mediwitch came into the room several minutes later with a tray of breakfast. As Hermione sipped her pumpkin juice she contemplated exactly what she would say at the hearing that afternoon. Just as she was winding up her mental deliberation, Mrs. Weasley with Ginny in tow knocked on the door and came in. The next hour and a half was spent bathing and getting dressed for her appearance before the Wizengamot. Mr. Weasley had taken it upon himself to have her clothing and school things packed and sent from her house to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley pulled out a freshly pressed black robe and brightly shining shoes for Hermione to wear. After those items were put on, she went to work on Hermione's hair. Finally she gave up trying to tame it and just let the thick curls have free rein.

Fairly soon afterwards Mr. Weasley poked his head in the room and announced that it was time to go. Hermione gathered up the loose parchment she had used to outline her testimony. Reluctantly she said goodbye to Mrs. Weasley and Ginny and followed Mr. Weasley out. They made quick work of getting to the Ministry. Neither of them said much and left each other to their own thoughts.

Mr. Weasley deposited Hermione outside a small room adjoining the courtroom. He told her that he had some business to attend to with another Ministry official and would be back to collect her shortly. As he left he gestured to the anteroom and suggested she wait there. His robe swished behind him as he walked off.

The door creaked as she opened it. It was rather dark in the room, the only light coming from a lamp in the corner. Two wingback chairs sat atop a dark green rug in the center of the room. It was the occupant of one of the chairs that drew her attention.

"Well, if it isn't Granger. Come to denounce me as a murderer, have you?"

It was the second time in a relatively short period of time that she had found him sitting in a chair mocking her. The emotions she had succumbed to the night before all came crashing back to her in that moment. His arrogant pose. The shock of pale blonde hair. The silvery eyes. None of those things were the source of her fear. It was what was beneath those eyes that scared her. The fact that she couldn't see it didn't mean that it wasn't still there lurking somewhere deep in his soul.

She spun around and stumbled trying to reach the door to escape. She had reasoned all this out that very morning. She had vowed to herself that she could handle seeing him again. But actually laying eyes on him was an entirely different experience. It was not one she could handle. Not yet. Her feet struggled to take her toward the door. More than anything in the world she wanted to flee.

"Wait."

It was whispered and held such quiet force and uncertainty.

"Please."

It was that word that ended it for her. Her feet stopped moving, stopped obeying her mind that was begging them to run. She turned back around slowly. He stood there in the center of the room, the light from the solitary lamp playing warmly on his face. His robe lay discarded on the chair. She wondered why she didn't notice that when she entered the room. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and his tie hung loosely from his collar.

"I see you didn't come unprepared," he said icily indicating the parchment she held in her hand. "You must be very pleased indeed to finally have your opportunity to denounce me. Potter and Weasel are probably..."

"No," she cut him off sharply and then quietly, "I'm not planning on denouncing you."

The look that crossed his face was one she would never forget. Malfoy was completely taken aback. "But, I tried to kill you," he said quietly, unbelieving.

She watched him a second before answering, "I know."

A/N: Thanks again for reading. Please review if you enjoyed it. Heck, review if you hated it! Ideas for Chapter 8 anyone? I am open to suggestions... email me or submit a comment in the review section. Taigan


	9. Chapter Eight: Truth is a Whisper

Disclaimer: The characters and locations do not belong to me. Wish they did. The plot and storyline are mine though.

A/N: This is quite a long chapter. Consider it my Halloween present to you all! The beginning of this chapter is a repeat of the confrontation from Chapter Seven but retold from Draco's point of view. What follows is a continuation of their conversation and subsequently the hearing. PLEASE REVIEW!!!

Old Moon Fades

by Taigan

Last Chapter:

"_I see you didn't come unprepared," he said icily indicating the parchment she held in her hand. "You must be very pleased indeed to finally have your opportunity to denounce me. Potter and Weasel are probably..."_

"_No," she cut him off sharply and then quietly, "I'm not planning on denouncing you."_

_The look that crossed his face was one she would never forget. Malfoy was completely taken aback. "But, I tried to kill you," he said quietly, unbelieving._

_She watched him a second before answering, "I know." _

Chapter Eight: Truth is a Whisper

He had been genuinely surprised when Granger had stepped into the room. Malfoy fought back the nerves that began crashing around violently in his stomach the moment she walked through the door. He had used the precious seconds she spent adjusting her eyes to the lack of light in the room to collect himself and to maintain some semblance of order in his mind. By the time she had noticed his presence Malfoy had surrounded himself in the illusion of a perfectly calm young man.

It appeared that she too was unsettled by their chance meeting. Her eyes were wide with shock and her mouth hung slightly open as she gasped audibly. The light from the lamp sung on her features, illuminating her dark curls. Slowly she met his gaze. For the second time he felt her dark eyes penetrating his soul, feeling around for what he was trying so hard to hide from the world. His secrets. The last time he had been in close proximity to her he had been too upset by his father to try to hide from her. But now he quickly built the walls around himself to keep her out. She knew too much about him already. Malfoy could tell the moment that she stopped searching; he could feel the tension leave his body. Her own body seemed to tense even more as if she knew that he was indeed hiding from her. He hated himself for cowering but it was all he could do at that moment to keep his emotions from exploding.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he was speaking to her in cold, harsh tones he usually reserved for those he thought beneath him. Now though he had no excuse. They both knew the truth. They were equals of a sort now that the news had broken about his true parentage, even if they were the only ones in on the secret. He was mildly surprised that she hadn't yet gone to the papers with the news. It certainly would be the greatest breaking story of recent history. Her name would be forever immortalized as the sole witness to the fall of the mighty Malfoy legacy. But, as it was, she hadn't told. That fact worried him almost as badly as what the truth would do if it got out. She held influence over him. That knowledge gave her a power greater than any magical ability ever could. She literally held his fate in her hands. With the hearing before the entire assembled Wizengamot only minutes away he couldn't help but wonder what she planned on doing. Knowing Granger she probably had her entire testimony written and every minute outlined. That was when he noticed the parchment. It was clamped tightly in her fist.

He watched immobilized as she turned back to the door in hopes of escaping. Something welled up inside of him. Standing quickly, the combination of nerves and confusion made him call out to her. He had to know. It was aching inside of him to find out if she planned on telling. The only way he would find the answers he sought was if she stayed. As much as he hated it he needed her to stay. He did the only thing he could think of doing in that moment. He begged.

"Please."

The sound of it was strange even to his own ears. Begging was not in his repertoire, but like so many things recently, he grudgingly admitted to the change.

She rotated slowly back to him, sufficiently confused by the sudden diversion of character.

He fully intended on being civil. But, before he could help himself the wrong words were leaving his lips. Words filled with malice and contempt and maybe just a little bit of fear. Mentally he berated himself for the childish regress, but still the words were pouring from him. Her eyes hardened to him but she remained where she was, refusing to give in. The hate was heavy between them as it had been since their childhood. It was much easier to revert to immature teasing than to illicit an angry response from her. It was childish, he knew, but it was all he was capable of.

She surprised him when she quietly negated his proclamation. She had no right! She couldn't do that, she had to allow him his hate. Hate was all he had left now. He was determined to cling to it for it was all he had that was his. His own name didn't even really belong to him. His home, his family, his entire existence was all a lie. But his hate was his own. The fact that Granger was probably the only ally he had in the world at the moment didn't matter. The fact that she could waltz into the hearing and charm the Wizengamot into sentencing him to a lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban wasn't enough to deter him.

And he deserved her hatred too. He had expected it, counted on it. And here she was declaring that she wasn't going to denounce him. His hate meant nothing if it wasn't reciprocated, because in his heart he truly didn't hate her. Not anymore. He didn't have enough emotion left for feelings that strong. He wanted to hate her, but...

He looked over at her then and realized that as he did so he was also asking why. He wasn't asking why she didn't plan on denouncing him, but rather why she didn't hate him. Why would she keep his secrets? Why did she seem to care? He wasn't Saint Potter or even that Weasley git. He had made it his sole objective to torment them and make their years at Hogwarts as miserable as his own were. And here she was taking up his cause like he was some bloody house-elf or something. That wouldn't do. He may not be a Malfoy or even a pureblood, but he certainly wasn't on the level with servant creatures.

But, the way she was looking at him, the way she was speaking to him now made him feel like he was nothing more than he was. For as long as he could remember everyone he knew or had ever come in contact with had spoken to him in reverence. They had made him feel like he was so much more than he really was; they practically sanctified him. Growing up with those pressures made him forget that he wasn't any better than everyone else. No wonder he was such a prat as a first year or even a fifth year for that matter. It had been so easy to assume he was better than everyone else because he was a pureblood. Granger was one of the first people that had ever taken him at face value and not made him up to be so much more than he was. And, when she found out that he was less than that she didn't treat him any differently. Maybe she was wearier of him now than she had been before. Hell, he would be weary of him too if he were in her shoes. But she still acted like he was nothing more or less than what he was. At least that was the same. In fact, it was the only thing that was the same.

Recognition of that fact stilled him, calmed him. When he met her eyes again the hatred he felt was not gone, but dormant. It was still there because he couldn't relinquish anything so quickly. But he had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that he couldn't feel for her what he used to. Not after everything that had happened. He was fairly confident she wouldn't discredit him now. If she planned on doing it she would have done it already. He couldn't admit to himself that her acknowledgment that she wouldn't say anything to sentence him was the true reason he felt himself safe. It was enough that he trusted her with this no matter what the reason.

"Granger, I..."

"Don't. It's alright, I understand. You don't have to say anything," she cut him off quickly. She looked up at him unsure of what to say, absently biting her lip.

He nodded slowly and straightened his tie. He watched her mentally struggle with herself. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head before he heard her voice, quiet and unsure, calling out to him.

"So, are you staying at Hogwarts, then? I mean, I read that the Ministry is conducting a search of your house."

He hesitated slightly before replying, "Dumbledore asked me to stay at school for the rest of the summer or at least until this whole matter is settled."

She nodded, her suspicions confirmed. Since she had showed a modicum of concern for his whereabouts, he naturally felt obligated to return the sentiment, "I guess you'll be staying with the Weasley's until start of term." He had to swallow the contemptuous remarks he wanted to make about the state of their home.

It was new, talking to her without malice. Odd, but not terribly surprising considering the ordeal they had survived together. It seemed she was just as unsure about how to act around him as he was around her.

"After the hearing I'll be going to the Burrow with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. My parents won't get released from St. Mungo's for quite some time or so I'm told," she looked away from him as she spoke, her voice cracking. "The Weasley's are kind enough to let me stay with them for as long as is necessary."

He wanted to say something, to apologize. Guilt was killing him from the inside out. It was his fault. His and his father's. Her sympathy was confusing to him, giving him even more reason to feel responsible. But he was interrupted from having to come up with an adequate response by a light knock on a side door.

A clerk poked his head in. His face was round and soft. The man took notice of Granger and looked back at Malfoy quickly, surprise evident in his face. "The hearing will begin in five minutes, Mr. Malfoy, sir," as quickly as he was there he was gone.

Malfoy paused for a split second before crossing the room to the door eager to escape from Granger and the guilt that was choking him. This time however, it was her voice that called him back.

"Malfoy, wait," she looked up at him shyly as he turned back around. "I meant to give these to you earlier. I'm sorry I kept them for so long."

He watched her reach into the pocket of her robe and pull out a small package wrapped in white linen. She took a cautious step toward him. He purposefully walked the remaining distance and took the package from her. Their fingers brushed but he ignored it. She stepped back as soon as the package left her hands.

Slowly he unwound the linen. A small breath escaped his lips as his father's signet ring and the emerald encrusted dagger fell into his palm. He looked up at Granger and saw a multitude of emotions race across her face too quickly for him to name. They both looked down at his "would-be" murder weapon resting on his palm. Both items were cold in his hand and he was unsure what to do with them. Without glancing back up at her, he rewrapped them both in the cloth and tucked them away into the robe he had left draped across the arm of the chair. Carefully he donned the black garment and again adjusted his tie.

Not sure what words to use to convey his feelings, he nodded at her and turned to leave the room. He thought he heard the words, "good luck," whispered as he shut the door behind himself.

Unbeknownst to him, his own trial was held in the very same room as his adversary Harry Potter. Courtroom 10 was surrounded on all sides by dark, stone covered walls, the only light in the room seemed to come from torches equally spaced along them. The assembled members of the Wizengamot milled around high above him in their dark purple robes, an elegantly embroidered silver "W" distinguishing their status.

It appeared that the hearing had yet to start so he took the spare time to calmly collect his thoughts. Unlike Granger, Malfoy hadn't brought an assortment of notes to support himself with during his testimony. He'd have to rely on the good old Malfoy charm to sustain him. Several older witches stared down at him and were whispering behind their cupped hands much like the women in the Atrium had after his arrest. He winked at them. A giggle floated back down to him in response. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. It appeared that he already had the support of the female Elders.

All at once, Amelia Bones strode into the upper portion of the Courtroom. She cleared her throat and ushered the members of the Wizengamot reluctantly to their seats. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had yet to make his appearance as did Dumbledore. Granger wasn't allowed in until it came time for her testimony. Suddenly the doors swung open and Fudge sauntered into the upper portion of the courtroom followed closely by another red-haired Weasley git. But, Fudge's desire for a grand entrance was undermined by Dumbledore who chose that very next moment to show up. Instead of going up into the upper level, Dumbledore walked calmly into the bottom portion. Dumbledore ignored Malfoy for a moment and concentrated on greeting several Elders who had already taken their seats. A few smiled and waved openly, the others looked cautiously toward the Minister before calling out a greeting in return.

Fudge it seemed was taking Dumbledore's action extremely personally and looked near apoplectic. He sputtered and turned toward Weasley, violently shaking his arms. Weasley shook his head in response and quickly took his seat. Fudge reluctantly sat down beside him and glared down at Dumbledore. Dumbledore, on the other hand, spent the next few seconds smiling and winking at various Elders completely oblivious to Fudge's anger or else rather blatantly ignoring him.

Finally Dumbledore turned towards Malfoy and gestured toward the single chair sitting in the center of the room. The manacles adorning the arms sat silent and eagerly awaiting an occupant. Feigning indifference, Malfoy strode toward the chair and sat down. Dumbledore conjured a chair next to Malfoy's and also sat. With the entire Wizengamot now in order and the defendant and his counsel at the ready, Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement called the hearing to order.

The Court Scribe feverishly attempted to keep up with Madame Bones as she addressed Malfoy, "Mr. Malfoy, you have been summoned to this court today because serious allegations regarding the kidnap of one, Hermione Granger, a muggleborn witch of your year at Hogwarts, and the subsequent murder of your father have come to our attention. We must also take into account that Ms. Granger's parents, both Muggles, were gravely injured in the attack on her home and are currently being housed at St. Mungo's Hospital until they are fit to be released," she gazed down at him, her eyes narrowing behind the glass monocle resting on the bridge of her nose before continuing, "As far as anyone knows, only you, your father, and Ms. Granger were in the underground chamber at Malfoy Manor at the time of your father's untimely death." She sneered as she said that last bit and went on to say, "The court must also be made aware that Lucius Malfoy and several of his 'colleagues' escaped from Azkaban prison shortly after being arrested and tried for being supporters of You-Know-Who."

"What exactly are you insinuating?!" came Malfoy's quick reply.

Dumbledore put a hand out to still the young man and calmly looked back up at the Wizengamot before speaking up for his pupil, "Madame Bones, young Mr. Malfoy certainly cannot be held accountable for the actions of his father and his father's associates. The purpose of this trial is not to convict Mr. Malfoy of becoming a Death Eater but to clear the charge of murder from his name."

He had spoken clearly and without pageantry. Madame Bones hesitated before briskly nodding her head, "Mr. Malfoy, I do hope you will forgive me. In no way did I intend to imply that the actions of your father are in any way indicative of the way you have acted," she turned toward the Elders and addressed them, "The Elders will please strike the association between the late Mr. Malfoy and his son from their conclusion of a verdict."

Malfoy could see the witches and wizards nodding in agreement. He settled more comfortably in his chair and gazed back up at Madame Bones arrogantly as she addressed him again. "Mr. Malfoy, could you explain for the court how Ms. Granger wound up at your residence?"

He glanced at Dumbledore quickly but not letting on that he wasn't sure how to proceed. Dumbledore minutely nodded his head indicating that Malfoy should speak candidly.

"It has always been my father's wish that I follow in his footsteps, so to speak," he spoke confidently and looked directly at Madame Bones. "As many of you know, my father can be... quite persuasive when it comes to getting what he wants," he singled out the women that had giggled at him earlier and put on the perfect face of innocence as he spoke. "When he initially came to me with the plan, I knew that there was no way that my father would take no for an answer."

"So, you agreed to go along with the plan?"

"Indeed I had no choice. Many of you knew my father, certainly someone here can attest to his manipulative persuasion? Minister Fudge?" he asked innocently. The Minister's eyes widened in shock but he didn't immediately deny the veiled accusation.

Madame Bones' eyebrow quirked and she appeared to stifle a snort before resuming her questioning, "Mr. Malfoy, could you please tell us how Ms. Granger came to be at your residence at the time of your father's death?"

"She came with my father and myself by means of an illegal portkey he had arranged specifically for the occasion."

"And what, Mr. Malfoy, were your father's intentions with Ms. Granger?"

He paused a moment before answering, "He wanted me to kill her."

The Elders erupted with questions and comments, all battling to be heard. Madame Bones raised her arms for quiet and they slowly restrained themselves and settled back down. All eyes were on him as she calmly continued the interrogation.

"Could you elaborate on your last statement please?"

"He wanted me to kill her for part of my initiation," he was speaking quietly and tried very hard to control the wording he used before it escaped his lips.

But, he waited too long before continuing and Madame Bones gently prodded him onward, "Do you mean as part of your initiation as a member of the Death Eaters?"

"Yes. It was his wish that I join him in support of the Dark Lord."

"As Ms. Granger is still alive and your father is not, I would assume that it would be safe to say that you did not acquiesce to his demands," her monocle had dropped from her eye and hung on a delicate gold chain as she waited for his response.

"I did not."

The whispering resumed and Madame Bones quieted the Elders again with an irritated wave of her hand. "How then, Mr. Malfoy, did your father come to be dead if neither you nor Ms. Granger killed him?"

This time he looked back at Dumbledore before answering. Again the Headmaster nodded his head. Malfoy looked back up at Madame Bones, "Naturally my father was angry that I refused to comply with his demands. But, I couldn't do it; I couldn't go through with it," he couldn't help but relive that horrible morning during his testimony. He tried, but couldn't keep the fear from creeping out into his voice. It was small and quiet when he spoke again, "He came at me, cursing. He tried to use the Killing curse on me," the gasps from the Elders were audible and for the third time Madame Bones had to restrain them. She nodded her head, urging him to continue. Malfoy regained control of his emotions and went on, "He almost had it out but something happened. He fell over wheezing and... I don't know what happened. He just died."

Madame Bones asked him if anything else had happened. His response was that there had been nothing else. She then called for Granger to be brought forth and to give her testimony.

The side door opened and Granger was admitted to the room. She looked genuinely nervous as she made her way forward. The law enforcement officer left her standing off to the side of the courtroom. She glanced quickly at Dumbledore and up at Fudge before fumbling with her papers. Madame Bones addressed her quickly, asking her to confirm that the late Mr. Malfoy and his son had been involved in her kidnap and the assault on her parents.

"It appeared to me that Mr. Malfoy led the attack. Malfoy stayed in the back while they attacked my parents," she was speaking quickly, her nerves apparent.

"By 'Malfoy,' do you mean Lucius Malfoy or Draco Malfoy, the young man on trial today?" Madame Bones spoke softly.

"Draco, Draco Malfoy stood behind his father and the others," she made a face as if the memories were too vivid in her mind.

Madame Bones' voice was startled as she asked, "There were others? Did you recognize them or know who they were?"

Granger looked over at him quickly, her thoughts rapidly crossing her face before responding, "I couldn't tell who they were. They all wore masks over their faces."

Madame Bones looked disappointed by the lack of information, but continued in her questioning. "Was it obvious what the late Mr. Malfoy's intentions were regarding your life once you had reached Malfoy Manor?"

"He wanted me dead if that's what you mean."

"And, how exactly did he plan on achieving that goal?"

Again she looked over at him, confusion and stress evident on her face. "He wanted his son to do it. But, Malfoy, I mean Draco Malfoy that is, said 'no.' He said that he wouldn't do it. And then his father got very upset. He attacked him. Malfoy was quite badly beaten."

The entire assembled Wizengamot turned to him, their eyes wide with shock. Madame Bones looked at him and asked if it were true. He nodded his head but didn't say anything. She turned back to Granger. "What happened next? What happened after Mr. Malfoy stopped beating his son?"

"He asked Draco to try again, but he again said 'no.' That's when he, Mr. Malfoy, tried to use the Killing Curse on him," Madame Bones gestured for her to continue. "He fell over before he could get it all out, the curse I mean."

"What happened next, Ms. Granger?"

She didn't look at him this time. She looked straight up at the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the Minister of Magic, and the entire Wizengamot and said, "Nothing. He died right after. Then the Aurors showed up."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger, that will be all" she gestured toward the guard who escorted Granger back through the door leading the small antechamber.

Madame Bones looked back down at him before calling the Elders to order. One of the guards took his wand from him and it was tested for Priori Incantato. Since the last spell cast had been a simple packing charm, it was declared that he couldn't have cast the Killing Curse to murder his father. A sixth year student wouldn't have the knowledge anyway to cast such a curse, or such was the consensus of the Elders. It was put to the vote, and Malfoy was cleared of the charges.

He stood to leave, eager to get back to his temporary residence at Hogwarts, but Madame Bones called out to him again.

"Mr. Malfoy, before you go, would you be so kind as to give us the names of the other people involved in the kidnapping?"

A/N: Sorry to end there, but this chapter was already getting very long. I will try my best to have Chapter 9 up as quickly as I can. But, as it is Halloween this weekend, I make no promises. Special thanks to the reviewers and especially to my BRAND NEW BETA, Silence! She edited the chapter and had it ready all in the span of a single day! So, she is to thank for the quick turnaround. Please Review! It might incite me to write more quickly!

Next Chapter: I haven't decided yet if I'll just cut to the start of term. Any thoughts??? And, yes this will be a romance, but it takes a while for Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger to get over hating each other...


	10. Chapter Nine: Aftermath

Disclaimer: Still belongs to JKR. This story and the ideas therein belong to me however, so DON'T STEAL. Unless you have permission of course.

A/N: Here is the edited version of chapter 9. Thanks to Silence my Beta for editing for me! I tried earlier to upload the new copy but for some reason wasn't accepting uploads. Also, I am now listed at the new Mugglenet Fanfiction site. So far I have NO REVIEWS! I would really appreciate it if you would go over there and give me a WONDERFUL review! If you like this story please let me know and let OTHER PEOPLE know.

Old Moon Fades

Chapter 9:

Hermione stayed in the small antechamber off of Courtroom 10 until the end of the hearing, though she didn't hear the outcome. Shortly after its conclusion, Mr. Weasley came back round to collect her. The two of them made their way through the gathering throng of reporters and gossipers converging upon the Ministry and finally down the lifts to the Atrium. It was absolute chaos on that level, with witches and wizards of every age running about like mad trying to catch a glimpse of something of interest. When someone spotted Hermione and Mr. Weasley there was shouting and flashbulbs, and people began crowding closer and closer. The pair hastily made their way to the 'Departure' fireplaces located along one wall, attempting to make their escape back to the Burrow. They were stopped several times by wizards eager to pose questions or shout comments about the case. Hermione thought she would be blinded by the cameras flashing in her face. Finally, Mr. Weasley had had enough and turned to face the crowd of gossipmongers.

He slowly took his hat from his head and nervously addressed the assembled mass, "On behalf of Ms. Hermione Granger, I would like to share my gratitude for the amount of support and concern you all have shown her during this stressful time. But I must ask that you please respect Ms. Granger's weakened state as she is still recovering from this much publicized ordeal. I also ask that you let me do my duty as her temporary guardian and escort her home where she can recover in safety and quietude," there were still mumblings and the occasional question thrown out, to which Mr. Weasley simply raised his hand for quiet once more. "I am sure that the Ministry soon plans on making some kind of formal statement as to what exactly went on at Malfoy Manor, but right now I feel I would be better served if I do my duty as guardian and take Ms. Granger home to recuperate."

Mr. Weasley spun around quickly and took Hermione's arm as they took the final steps to the fireplaces. She looked up at him, mouth agape, and followed close behind him. She could still feel the stares and cameras at her back, but chose to ignore them. It had been such a long day and her emotions had completely drained out of her system. All she wanted was to go to the Burrow, drink a nice hot cup of tea, or maybe even some butterbeer, and sit by the fire chatting with Harry and Ron about, well... anything. Mr. Weasley gestured toward the fireplace and told her she should go first and that he would follow after discovering the results of the hearing. He held the jug of floo powder out to her. She stepped into the fireplace and reached into the proffered jug and took a small handful out before throwing it at her feet and saying the words, "The Burrow!"

Gracelessly she fell forward into the Weasley kitchen. Hermione stood slowly and winced. Her back and arms were still sore and the simple act of standing left her tired and breathless. Almost immediately she was attacked in a ferocious hug by Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley smelled of wheat and baking. It was nice to feel a motherly body holding her close. The reminder of her parent's condition did nothing to soothe her mood and she clung to Mrs. Weasley for a moment longer than was necessary. If Mrs. Weasley noticed, she didn't say anything. In fact, she seemed to take this as a sign of encouragement and after dropping the embrace she still kept an arm about Hermione's shoulders. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had all come into the kitchen at the sound of her arrival and were waiting to greet her. Like before, Ginny was the most eager to hug her and ask if she was alright. Harry was next, and in his reserved manner he asked how the hearing went. Ron seemed most reluctant to greet her. He said "hello" but looked down at her feet before meeting her eyes. When he did so, he promptly looked away. Ron was never very good at concealing his emotions and Hermione immediately wanted to find out what was wrong. She couldn't remember saying anything to cause him to be angry with her. But, at the same time, she thought that possibly his disinclination had something to do with a completely different emotion. She vowed to herself to question Ginny about it before confronting Ron.

Mrs. Weasley softly pushed the four of them out of the kitchen and offered to bring them some tea up in Ron and Harry's room. Hermione nodded and let herself be led up the stairs and down the hall. She sat down in the chair while Ginny perched on Ron's desk. Harry and Ron sat down on their respective beds. She glazed over the details of her encounter with Malfoy before in the antechamber and then gave a thorough account of the hearing. They talked for some time, the only interruption being Mrs. Weasley's arrival with the tea. They were left alone again for a little while longer before she returned and sent them all to bed.

The time until school started passed rather quickly and uneventfully for Hermione. The only moment that posed any sort of distraction had come when she had gone to St. Mungo's to visit her parents. While they were still comatose, she felt it her duty to see them regularly whether they knew she was there or not. On the first of these visits she and Ginny had been dropped off at the hospital by Mr. Weasley on his way to work. It was only a few days after the hearing and Hermione was still trying to keep a low profile. They had made their way cautiously to the fourth floor, the Spell Damage ward. The only problem was that Mr. and Mrs. Granger weren't there.

Her nerves already shot, Hermione practically flew to the mediwitches' desk. The witch was young and the bright green robes were not her color. She looked up at Hermione from her copy of that morning's Daily Prophet, recognition of Hermione's identity evident on her face.

"Where are my parents?" the tension and fear made her voice crack and she felt Ginny reach over and grab her hand in support.

The mediwitch looked at her in confusion at first and then in realization. She glanced down at a parchment lying on the desk and ran a finger down it slowly. When she spoke she seemed almost conspiratorial and leaned forward in her chair elbows propping up her upper torso. "We got an anonymous owl right after the hearing requesting that the Grangers be moved into a private suite," she smiled almost slyly before Hermione interrupted her.

"But who would do such a thing? It certainly wasn't me!"

The mediwitch leaned back again in her chair and glanced down at her nails before replying, "There was quite a large sum of money included with the letter. I've got it somewhere around here. Would you like to see it?"

Hermione nodded quickly. The witch dug through the desk before finally pulling it out of the drawer reverently. She reluctantly handed it over to Hermione's waiting hands. It was quickly pocketed.

The witch was looking longingly at the letter so Hermione had to repeat herself when she asked what room her parents were now in.

"Room number 12. It's just down the hall," the witch replied, but Hermione and Ginny were already making their way down the corridor.

They opened the door to the room and were engulfed in brilliant sunlight. Bright curtains filtered sunlight through the windows lining an entire wall of the room. There was a plush sofa and several chairs arranged on a thick pile rug in the center of the room. Hermione's parents occupied the only two beds in the room. The only other inhabitant was a mediwitch who greeted them cheerily before saying that she would give them some time alone with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

Hermione went to her mother's bedside and clasped her hand. Though she was still in a coma, Hermione felt better about herself knowing that she had indeed visited. She then walked to her father's side and kissed his cheek in greeting. She then joined Ginny on the sofa.

Ginny looked eagerly over at her and asked, "So, who do you think sent the letter? Dumbledore, perhaps?"

"Maybe..." Hermione was skeptical however and slowly opened the letter. The handwriting was crisp and elegant. The sentences were clear and to the point. Each word looked carefully controlled, but the handwriting was vaguely familiar to her. She looked down on it, reading it over and over. There was no signature at the bottom.

"Who sent it?" Ginny asked, quietly peering over her shoulder.

"Malfoy."

Ginny gaped at her in shock, clearly thinking that Hermione had it wrong this time. Hermione looked back up at her friend debating whether or not to tell her what had really happened with Malfoy. But, she was too afraid of what the truth would do. So, she opted for the easy way out. Hermione told Ginny everything that had happened with Malfoy, except that Lucius Malfoy wasn't really his father. She told Ginny in detail of their confrontation before the hearing and of how troubled and upset he had been. She had left these things out in her telling to Ron and Harry. Ginny let her talk without interruption, but when Hermione finished she bombarded her with questions. She had been especially curious about him calling back to Hermione and saying "please." They spent the next few minutes debating what the implications of it could mean. By the time Mr. Weasley came back round to collect them, they were even more confused than ever before.

Hermione held Ginny back for just moment as Mr. Weasley walked ahead. She grabbed her friend's hand and pleaded with her not to tell Ron or Harry about what had really happened. Ginny quickly agreed and the two of them followed Mr. Weasley out of St. Mungo's and back to the Burrow.

That next week the school supply lists came by owl post as did the results of O.W.L.'s and the delightful news that Ginny was to be made Gryffindor fifth year prefect. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione both cheered when Ginny told them. The three of them danced around the kitchen and Hermione felt for the first time since school let out that things might actually return back to normal.

Ron still wouldn't talk to her unless she prodded him. She planned on getting to the bottom of his feelings once the term started. She wouldn't admit, even to herself, that maybe she was just putting it off. Harry spent quite a bit of time locked up in his and Ron's room. The death of Sirius still weighed heavy on his heart. He blamed himself even if logically he knew that it wasn't his own fault. Until he could see that, he was bound to be miserable. So, Ginny and Hermione spent the bulk of the end of summer together. They laughed as friends do, discussed the upcoming school year, and eventually Ginny confessed to Hermione her feelings for Harry.

Sooner than they had imagined it, the time came for them to venture to King's Cross and from there board the Hogwart's Express. Mr. Weasley borrowed a magically enlarged Ministry car to take the group into London. After shrinking all the trunks and loading them into the boot, they made their way through the city streets and finally to the station.

They took turns entering Platform 9 ¾ and then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley joined them to see them off. Mrs. Weasley hugged Hermione last and wished her well. She promised that she would continue to visit Hermione's parents at St. Mungo's until they were released and would keep her informed of their wellbeing. Wiping a tear from her eye Hermione hugged Mrs. Weasley back fiercely and then turned quickly to join her friends boarding the train.

They made their way to the last compartment and settled their things. Neville Longbottom quickly joined them. There had been some hysteria when Hermione boarded the train and this only proved to her that the summer's events would be on the forefront of everyone's minds at the start of term. Lavender Brown had practically bowled her over outside the platform just as she was saying goodbye to Mrs. Weasley. Immediately Hermione recognized that Lavender was only partially interested in the state of her health, and more than anything wanted to acquire some juicy gossip to share with the other sixth year girls. The Patil twins stood several feet away watching carefully, ears trained on the conversation that wasn't going the way Lavender intended. Hermione calmly told Lavender off and boarded the train. She could hear Parvati ask her friend what she had said to irritate Hermione.

Sitting in the train compartment surrounded by her close friends should have brought comfort, and on some superficial level it did. But, she still felt awkward even though they were her friends. She wasn't the same Hermione anymore. Not after everything that had happened that summer. Her secrets weighed heavy on her heart, but she knew that it wasn't her place to tell anyone Malfoy's secret. Even mentioning it casually to her closest friends would prove only to be disastrous. Ginny might understand and sympathize but Hermione knew that no matter what, neither Harry nor Ron could ever accept the fact that Malfoy wasn't a threat anymore. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He was still a threat but not in the same way. She knew even if no one else did that he was now going to be just as much of a target as Harry. Lucius Malfoy's dying words had been threats, hadn't they? Or maybe a warning. Whatever they were, the truth was that Malfoy wasn't the same either. That was the secret that most scared her. She knew. He knew that she knew. What could that possibly mean for her over the course of the year? She didn't want to keep secrets from her friends, but for some reason she felt compelled to keep this one. Why though? Why now? Why Malfoy?

"HERMIONE!" Ginny sat looking at her curiously from across the compartment. Ron and Harry and even Neville were eying her oddly as Ginny continued, "Have you been listening? It's about time for us to go up to the prefects' cart for the first meeting."

"Oh! Right. Sorry, I must have been daydreaming," Hermione replied quickly. Her voice betrayed her unease and Ginny looked at her more intently while Neville shrugged it off and continued looking out the window.

"Well, let's go then. Before they start without us," Ginny stood up and looked at Hermione and Ron expectantly. Reluctantly Ron rose and Hermione followed him and Ginny out of the compartment and down to the prefects' cart.

The prefects' cart was steadily filling with the current year's prefects. After several minutes, the only prefect missing in attendance was Malfoy. She immediately remembered that he had planned on spending the remainder of the summer at Hogwart's. She glanced over at Pansy Parkinson who was sitting with the other Slytherin prefects. Pansy caught her looking and glared back. It was different than it had been before. The hate was no longer shallow or even well-concealed. Hermione could feel Pansy's hatred of her permeating the compartment but she met her gaze and returned it. She didn't want things to be this way. In fact she rather hoped that Malfoy's change of heart would lead the other Slytherins to follow suit.

The schedule of rounds was passed around to the group. Hermione glanced down at hers and saw that she still had all her rounds with Ron. Maybe that time would give her the opportunity to confront him about everything. She felt Ron's gaze upon her and shyly smiled over at him. He looked away but slowly returned it. The meeting was soon concluded and they made their way back to the last compartment.

Shortly thereafter the train deposited them in Hogsmeade and the students began filing into the carriages. It was strange how she could now see the Thestrals. When they had all gone to the Ministry she hadn't been able to see them. She had ridden one so far above the ground. It had been a peculiar feeling to fly so high above the ground and seemingly have nothing to support herself. Somehow, it was even more eerie to see them now and to know the real reason why she was suddenly able to see them.

The prefects stood aside and helped the first years into the boats. Hagrid was there and eagerly made his way to where Hermione and the others stood. They spoke briefly, Hagrid had to hurry away to take the first years up to the school. Eventually, everyone was situated and they all climbed into the carriage Harry and Neville saved for them.

With every turn of the carriage wheels beneath them, Hermione felt a growing sense of nervous tension. The closer they got to Hogwarts, the more nervous she felt. Ginny noticed and reached over and patted her knee. Hermione looked up in thanks and then back out the window at the approaching castle. It was silent in the carriage. The noises from other carriages drifted to her. Laughing. Idle Chatter. Singing. It was unnerving in the awkward quiet of their carriage.

They pulled to a stop just outside the castle. Everyone got out of the carriage and made their way into the Great Hall for the Welcome Speech and the Sorting. By now Hermione was wringing her hands in anxiety. Malfoy would be there, Malfoy and the other junior Death Eaters.

The large doors swung open and the group made their way to the Gryffindor table. She didn't look over at the Slytherin table. She wouldn't. Not yet. Not now. She berated her cowardice but still she wouldn't look. She sat down next to Ginny and across from Ron and Harry. Neville settled in on Ginny's other side.

Dumbledore and the other professors sat at the Head Table gazing down at the students. The Sorting began but Hermione paid no notice. Soon Dumbledore was standing and giving the Welcome Speech. After first outlining the rules for the first years he continued on about the need for House unity. He made no specific mention of the events of that summer, and for that Hermione was grateful. It was then that she chanced a glance over at the Slytherin table.

At first she couldn't pick him out of the group of students lining both sides of the table. She saw Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy Parkinson and Milicent Bulstrode were there as were Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. But where was Malfoy? Typically he would be seated in the middle of the throng. He was, after all, the prince of Slytherin and he held court over the other students.

Finally she spotted him. He sat at the end of the table far away from his friends. He didn't look at them. It was then that she also began to notice the little things that she had missed only moments ago. Pansy Parkinson would look askance at him every once in a while. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to not know what to do. It was Theodore Nott that seemed to be keeping them in place.

Hermione tried to recall what the Daily Prophet had said about the end of the hearing and couldn't. She nudged Ginny and asked quietly, so as not to attract anyone's notice, what exactly had the Daily Prophet said about the hearing. Ginny turned as red as her brother did when put on the spot and looked guiltily back at her.

"Mum had Dad throw them away before you could see them. She didn't want you to be any more upset than you already were," she said quickly before digging back into her meal.

Hermione was livid. She glared at Ron and Harry from across the table. Ron felt her gaze first and dropped a biscuit as it made its way to his mouth. Harry took notice of this and looked toward Hermione as well.

"Did you both know that they were hiding the paper from me? Were you in on it too?" her voice was taut and inflexible. Ron looked quickly at Harry and then to Ginny. Harry didn't meet her eyes.

She took this as answer enough and promptly stood up from the table. She didn't bother saying goodnight to her friends before marching out of the Great Hall regardless of the stares of all the other students. She had made it all the way to the portrait of the Fat Lady before she realized that she didn't know the password.

She was angry, not only at Ginny and the others, but also for herself for refusing to deal with the entire ordeal. It wasn't like her not to keep up on the current events; especially ones directly involving herself. What had happened after she left the hearing?

The library. Madame Pince would keep old copies of the paper there in the reserves section. While everyone else was still at the feast she could read in peace and hopefully discern why exactly Malfoy was sitting all alone. She made it to the library in relatively good time. It was deserted just as she had predicted. The reserves section was along one side wall on the far left of the library. In the dark it was hard to see but eventually she spotted them. The Daily Prophets were stacked next to other wizarding papers. The Quibbler was there, as was Witch Weekly. Hermione had just found the paper for the day after the hearing when she heard a noise behind her. She spun around and reached for her wand.

"Who's there?"

"Relax, Granger. You'd think that after I tried to kill you that you'd settle down a bit around me," the sarcasm in his voice immediately put her on guard.

"Malfoy."

She had only seen him once since her kidnapping. But in that one time she had thought that maybe they had come to some sort of an agreement. Maybe they weren't friends but she certainly didn't think of him as an enemy anymore. From the way he was looking at her now however, she thought that she maybe she should seriously reconsider that assessment.

A/N: I promise to have the next chapter up soon. I'm working on it. There are a ton of unanswered questions... but that's intentional. Let me know where you heard about this story. Did you do a simple search on DId you come here from Mugglenet or maybe Flourish and Blotts? Questions, Comments, Concerns? REVIEW! I'll email people back if they have a really specific question.


	11. Chapter Ten: Sorrow Hangs Like A Halo

Old Moon Fades

A/N: Here is the betaed copy of this chapter. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Last Chapter:

_She had only seen him once since her kidnapping. But in that one meeting she had thought that maybe they had come to some sort of an agreement. Maybe they weren't friends, but she certainly didn't think of him as an enemy anymore. From the way he was looking at her now, however, she thought that maybe she should seriously reconsider that assessment. _

Chapter 10: Sorrow Hangs Like A Halo

He stood there silhouetted in the moonlight. The bookcases behind him cast long parallel shadows on the floor. Hermione gripped the newspapers in her arm tightly and didn't dare to drop her wand. Gone was the boy who had seemed so troubled and lonely before the hearing, and in his place stood a young man hell-bent on revenge. She eyed him wearily, afraid of what would happen.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she inwardly cringed at the fear that was so evident in her voice. More than anything she didn't want him to know how scared she actually was around him. Putting up a brave front, she straightened her shoulders and met his icy gaze.

"Really, Granger?" He ignored her question and sarcastically posed his own. He stepped closer, the tension between them building with each step, each breath that separated them. His eyes narrowed as he continued, "You can't honestly tell me that _you_ don't know what happened. And here, I always thought that you were so enamored with reading. I must say you truly had me convinced."

"What happened? After the hearing I mean," she ignored his snide comments. Her curiosity was too unbearable. She had to ask.

He shook a finger in front of her slowly. "Tsk. Tsk. I'm disappointed, Granger. Really, I expected better from you."

He continued walking toward her with those excruciatingly slow steps. Hermione forced herself to stand her ground and budge not one inch. She watched his approach; he moved with the grace of a trained predator honing in on its prey. She certainly felt hunted now. The smirk played roughly on his lips before creeping up to other parts of his face. He stopped just inches from her. She could feel the warmth of his breath caressing her cheek. She willed herself not to cower. She had done enough of that lately. No, she would show her Gryffindor courage tonight. Hermione boldly raised her face to his, caught the appraising look returning to his eyes. The smirk adorning his face grew bolder, more audacious.

A cool hand reached up and grabbed her arm but still she didn't take her eyes from his. Malfoy's eyebrow quirked as he ripped the newspapers from her hand.

"Hey!"

He pulled away before throwing the newspapers to the floor. She stomped her foot inelegantly. His only response was a snug look and a chuckle. She was instantly reminded of grade school, the class bully stealing her beloved book from her on the playground. Malfoy certainly looked the part at that moment, the smile nowhere to be found except his eyes.

In that moment she began to realize that she could read his face like the pages of one of her books. The emotions were so cleverly concealed but she could now see just how the puzzle of his mind fit together. Hermione had enough experience garnering the truth from Harry's face. Harry was the king of keeping his feelings all bottled up inside. Yes, gauging Malfoy would pose no real problem to her. Just now, he thought he had one-upped her. Indeed, he had. But didn't she now have the upper hand because she knew?

He must have sensed a change in her mood because all at once he became volatile. It came so suddenly that she almost missed it. For a moment she thought he would hit her. He must have sensed the fear in her again for he softened and his face fell in a kind of sorrow.

His voice was supple and apologetic when he whispered, "I won't hurt you."

He looked for a moment like he was going to walk to her again. But, he didn't. His feet were planted where they were on the library floor. The distance between them was shadowed by the sorrow hanging like a halo above them. She couldn't express in words the feelings she was so carefully controlling. Anguish for her parents. Regret for the events of her kidnapping. Confusion about the hearing and Ron. Guilt for the secrets she was keeping from her friends. Fear of Malfoy. He stood there so arrogantly and yet so lowly, as if he knew he didn't deserve it.

A sound from the stacks interrupted her thoughts.

"Hermione?" It was Ron. His voice floated to where she stood hidden in the shadows.

"Here she is! Ron, I found her!" Ginny called. Ginny walked quickly toward Hermione before realizing that they weren't alone. Ginny eyed Malfoy hastily before looking to Hermione for confirmation.

Ron stepped into the circle of shadows they were all occupying and looked apologetically at Hermione. The instant he noticed Malfoy standing there only a few steps away, his entire body went rigid. His face reddened in anger and his fists clenched reflexively.

Ginny moved to stand by Hermione and clutched her arm. "Come on, it's past curfew. We have to get back to the Tower," she pleaded.

Hermione, however, made no move to leave. Her eyes never left Ron and Malfoy. Ron stood there looking as if he wanted very badly to pummel the Slytherin. Malfoy looked eager for the challenge. The scene looked like it could explode any second. She hesitated only a moment before quietly venturing, "Ron?"

But, he ignored her. It was Malfoy who acquiesced.

"Don't worry, Granger. I was just leaving," he didn't even look at her as he swept past them. He blended with the shadows as he vanished into the dark of the library.

Ron continued to watch him as he disappeared in the shadows. Ginny stared at Hermione closely before asking if she was all right. Ron turned back to them at this and ran a hand casually through his hair.

"Yes, Ginny. I'm fine," Hermione replied. She watched Ron's face. At least his was always honest. She didn't have to try to judge his moods. His feelings were always written plainly on his face. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she knew what he felt. For the situation. For her. For everything. She knew. Her own feelings posed the most trouble. She didn't know what she wanted or what she felt about him. So she ignored it.

Ron's face fell as she looked away and toward the papers abandoned on the floor. The three of them bent down to retrieve the scattered sheets. The headline of the Daily Prophet from the day of the hearing glared back up at her in the moonlight.

"MALFOY NAMES DEATH-EATER CONSPIRATORS IN CASE OF CENTURY!"

She stilled as the ramifications of the headline formed themselves in her brain. Her eyes quickly skimmed the article under the headline. Draco Malfoy had named several others responsible for the torture of her parents and her own kidnapping. The names of several screamed back up at her. Crabbe. Goyle. Nott. All were parents of sixth year Slytherin boys. The scene in the Great Hall at the Welcome Feast, a mere hour before, came back to her. Malfoy sitting alone at the end of the Slytherin table. Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott sending deadly looks back at him. Their parents had all been named. The article said they were still at large, but without Lucius Malfoy's guiding hand, it was predicted that they would soon be caught.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Ginny's voice was small as she stood up to leave. "We should probably go back soon..."

"Of course. No, let's go," Hermione's voice was shaky and disturbed her as she slowly rose. She bit her lip as a small sob gasped out. She didn't want to cry. Not now. This didn't change anything. But, it did.

She was still angry with her friends for keeping the news from her. The thought that this was how Harry must have felt last summer briefly crossed her mind, but she ignored it. Instead, she turned and faced her friends, eager to vent some of her frustration and anger out on them. Ginny turned to go but Hermione's angry voice called her back.

"Why did you keep all this from me?! Why, when you knew that I would want to know? That I needed to know!" She yelled regardless that they were in the library.

The tears she had held back for so long, that she had kept at bay ignoring their existence, came freely now. Ron shifted uncomfortably and straightened the papers in his hands. Ginny stood awkwardly by her brother. Both wore equally guilty looks on their faces. Neither said anything. Hermione wasn't deterred however.

"How dare you all to presume what I should and should not know!"

"Hermione, it wasn't like that..." Ron started before Hermione cut him off again.

"NO! You don't know what it was like! You have no idea what I went through! My parents are in the hospital in comas! How dare you to assume that keeping me in the dark was going to solve any of my problems!"

Ginny was looking at her with tears in her eyes, while Ron was staring down at the floor. Hermione's anger began to dissipate as she looked at her friends. She quieted but continued.

"You have no idea what I go through everyday. I have to work twice as hard as everyone else in this school simply because my parents are Muggles. I have worried about their safety everyday since first year. At least I can defend myself against the Death Eaters. They can't!" She paused for a moment to catch her breath. "I would have wanted to know what Malfoy had done. Do you have any idea how important this is? This article changes everything!" She waved the newspaper.

"Hermione, I'm really sorry. I know we should have told you. But you were so happy after the hearing. It was almost as if none of it had happened. We didn't want to spoil it, that's all," Ginny ventured quietly.

Hermione nodded slowly. "I know. I'm sorry for yelling. I just... had to get it out of my system I guess." She shifted the papers in her hands, embarrassed about her outburst. "We should head back to the Tower. After all, it is past curfew."

Ginny nodded and Ron shifted uneasily before agreeing. The three of them awkwardly made their way out of the library. Hermione had a strange sense of being watched, but ignored it and chalked it up to nerves.

If she had just turned around, she would have seen the silver haired boy standing in the shadow of a bookcase watching silently.

He couldn't say what it was that had possessed him to follow after her when she fled the Great Hall during dinner. He had watched her during the meal, had seen her struggle not to glance over at him. Part of him willed her to, if only for the temporary relief from the loneliness he felt since coming to Hogwarts. The other Slytherins stayed away from him after making it abundantly clear that he had committed an unforgivable offense in naming their fathers during the hearing.

The food before him wasn't filling. He could feel Pansy's eyes boring into the side of his face. He ignored her. She had proven to be more trouble than the others. She had come to him right after exiting the carriages. He listened, more politely than he had with Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott, as she spewed her rejections at him. He wasn't surprised, nor was he hurt. Not really. Only superficially. But no one had gone so far as to insult him or threaten him. They weren't that stupid. After all he was still the wealthiest young wizard in Britain. Hell, he was the wealthiest wizard in most of Europe. When the Wizengamot cleared him of all the charges he was formally named as the sole heir of the Malfoy fortune, vast as it was. An anonymous guardian would hold the money and estates in trust until he came of age.

To say too much or to go too far would be suicide for any young wizard. Once Malfoy came of age he literally would hold their futures in his hands. They knew it. He knew it. So they backed off. Sure, they puffed around for a bit, but they eventually just gave in. It was obscene how much wealth and power he would hold at such a young age. Witches and wizards, far older than he, spent decades trying to amass a mere percentage of what he would possess upon graduation.

The reaction the other students were having to him hadn't really stunned him. He was used to a moderate amount of attention from others. In fact, he reveled in it. But, it was different this time. It wasn't awe that people's faces held; reservation and unease filled the hearts of practically everyone at Hogwarts. It had been almost unbearable to walk into the Great Hall at the start of the feast. The moment he stepped through the doors all talking ceased. Every eye in the room was trained on him as he made his way to the end of the Slytherin table. It took everything he had to retain his composure and normal demeanor. As if in a production, he sauntered carefully, controlling his signature smirk and ignored all the stares. When he sat down the chatter resumed in full force.

Only a few minutes had passed when Granger and her legion of loyal cohorts entered for the feast. Again the silence was deafening as every student turned to stare at the girl that had made all the headlines. Their eyes turned from her to him yet again as if they could glean some kind of gossip simply from their presence. Dumbledore's speech had been a welcome distraction. The students reluctantly turned their attention from him and toward the Headmaster.

When he felt it was safe he chanced a glance over toward the Gryffindor table. He could feel Granger not looking at him. She was focusing all her energy on ignoring him, so much so that it became painfully obvious that she was indeed intensely aware of him. The thought pleased him and at the same time angered him more than he thought was necessary. Disturbed, he dug into his plate. Then, like everyone else in the Hall, he looked up to see the fight ensuing at the Gryffindor table.

Granger hastily stood from the table and stormed from the room. The faces of Potter, that Weasley git, and his sister were priceless. Guilt was written all over them. The sister leaned over across the table to whisper with her brother and his friend. Potter shook his head in response to whatever she had said. Weasel looked devastated.

It was then that he decided to follow Granger. He didn't know what possessed him to do it. He tried telling himself that it was only to torment and tease her about the fight. He didn't want to admit that maybe he just needed to talk to someone, even if the conversation was filled with malice. He made his decision and left the room.

She wasn't in the entrance hall. Where would she go? The library. Obviously. With purposeful strides, he walked down the dark corridors of the school. In the weeks he had stayed here alone, he had come to enjoy the quiet of the hallways and the silence during the nighttime. It was the day that he didn't like. The lack of people and companionship was almost unbearable. It had been weeks since he'd had a decent conversation with anyone.

And that was the reason he had gone to the library after her. Not that he really wanted to talk to her, but they had come to some sort of an arrangement, hadn't they? They weren't the enemies they once were. She kept his secret. He didn't know what motivated her to do it, but he did know that meant something. At least it meant something to him.

When he found her in the reserves section of the library he didn't know what to say. So, he went with his usual scathing remark and trademark sneer. It wasn't that he wanted to continue being mean to her, it was more that he didn't know how else to be. He had always been condescending and rude to his peers. He almost never had a kind word for Crabbe or Goyle. So he said the first mean thing that had come to his mind. She looked hurt when he ripped the newspapers from her arms. He couldn't stop himself though.

She stared at him as they stood in the shadows of the bookcases and he knew that she was just as lost and confused feeling as he was. But she was also afraid of him. He recognized that, it was the natural result of many years of torture and teasing. His former self would have been proud of that accomplishment. But not anymore. Not after what she had done for him at the hearing. He owed her his life, or close to it anyway. And this was how he repaid her? With cruelty and harsh words about her reading habits? He didn't know any differently. He'd never had any real friends. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to ignore the changes that had happened but that was impossible now.

She looked for a moment like she had realized that he didn't hate her, her eyes betrayed her own thoughts of victory. She thought she had him all figured out. But, oh how wrong she was. It angered him that she was so clever. She very nearly did have him all figured out. She was the only person to ever come close to witnessing his inner self, the secret part of him that he kept tucked away hidden far out of sight.

He didn't check his anger though and she looked for a moment just like the girl he and his father had kidnapped. Her face held the same twisted contortion of fear that it had as he'd pressed the dagger to her throat. She looked genuinely scared of him. It surprised him that he didn't want to scare her anymore. He didn't want to hurt her. He told her as much.

The few moments that followed were filled with all the regret and sadness that had overwhelmed him these last few weeks. She was the only one who shared them with him. It was their unwanted bond. He could read every emotion on her face just as surely as she could read his own. The thought was comforting and at the same time extremely unsettling and disturbing. He'd never let anyone in before. He didn't want to now. But, there it was, his most unlikely ally and possibly his only friend. It scared him more than he could say.

He had been almost relieved when Weasley barged in ready to fight him. But he'd stopped himself as tribute to Granger. One look at her face and the guilt over all the pain he'd already caused her and her family was almost too much to bear. So, he'd backed down and retreated into the darkness of the stacks. He watched hidden in the shadows, unable to drag himself away as Granger laid into her two friends.

Then, too quickly, they were leaving him again. He waited silently as they walked out of sight. He didn't know what the future held but maybe it wouldn't be so unbearable because Granger was going through it too.

A/N: Please Review! Let me know where you heard about this story. I am trying to spread the word and get more people reading it. I commission you to do the same! Any suggestions for Chapter 11??? As long as they don't conflict with the plot, I'll do my best to incorporate them... Thanks again to all the reviewers and to those of you who read it anyway.

Taigan


	12. Chapter Eleven: The Secret

Old Moon Fades

Chapter 11: The Secret

Draco watched as his eagle owl soared off into the distance, its wings catching the wind as it glided higher and higher. He stood there bathed in morning sunlight until the owl faded away over the horizon. It was nearing breakfast but it was still very quiet as most of the students were still tucked soundly away in their beds. Not Draco. Sleep was too hard to come by and while he longed for the respite and diversion that it provided, he was in no way ready to face the demons affecting his dreams. Every night the horror of Lucius' death haunted him. He would wake in a cold sweat, drowning in blood that only existed in his mind. He wasn't able yet to face those demons and wasn't sure if he ever would be.

It was the first day of term and he was eagerly awaiting the distraction it would provide. He didn't know exactly what the school year would bring but he comforted himself with the hope that it couldn't get any worse than it already was. The Slytherins had declared themselves his enemies. He was fine with that. He'd never been overly fond of them anyway. Decent conversation was almost non-existent with Crabbe and Goyle as his best mates. The Gryffindors still hated him; there was no change in that. It would take some time to adjust to his new role as Slytherin outcast, but he wasn't overly worried. There were more important things hanging over his head, like Voldemort and his cronies hell-bent on his destruction.

The morning sun was dawning over the horizon, each ray gently caressing the earth. The stone floors of the West tower were covered in rotting straw that slid beneath his shoes as he made his way out of the owlry. The letter to his mother was all but forgotten by the time he made his way down to the Entrance Hall.

Very few people were up this early for breakfast in the Great Hall. He ate his meal in silence and solitude at the end of the Slytherin table. There were a few Ravenclaws huddled together laboriously comparing notes from their summer reading, their meals abandoned for study. A younger Hufflepuff student was bent over a copy of Witch Weekly eagerly examining an article while her house-mates took turns peering over her shoulder to read a tidbit or two. They were all giggling. Gryffindor Table was vacant. He was mildly surprised that Granger wasn't there doing last minute revisions over her summer homework. He pretended that he wasn't disappointed and chalked it up to the simple need for interaction with someone, anyone for that matter.

After cleaning his plate and downing his cup of pumpkin juice, Draco headed back up to his room to ready himself for the first day. He fought the urge to follow instinct and descend the stairs down to the dungeons. Slytherin was no longer his dormitory. Instead, he went up the marble staircase and down a rarely used corridor. His new accommodations were located in a nearly vacant section of the school. He felt rather important having a room all to himself but the truth of it was like a knife in his chest.

The afternoon of his arrest, after his rather long session with Dumbledore, he had gone down to the dungeons and spoken the password to be let into the Slytherin common room. It hadn't opened. He stood there for minutes on end repeating every password that he'd ever known. None had worked. In confusion he'd gone back to Dumbledore irritated and nervous. The look on the old Headmaster's face when he voiced his problem was one he'd never forget.

In all the years he'd known him, Dumbledore had never been without the spark and charisma that had endeared him to thousands of people all the world over. But, to have looked upon him then, the sadness and pain so overwhelming that Draco feared for the worst. Dumbledore had sat down heavily in his chair, for the first time in all of Draco's knowledge had actually looking defeated and worn. He met Draco's eyes with regret and told him all the things that he didn't want to hear.

Hours later he was settled into his newly appointed room. Dumbledore had seen to it to personally furnish and outfit the entire room for him. He was in too much shock from their conversation to acknowledge his appreciation. It was a small room but quite adequate for a single student. It was outfitted with a desk for study and a small bookcase. A wardrobe stood off to the side and his four poster bed took up much of the rest of the room. From his window he could just make out the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's hut in the distance.

The reasons for him having his own room were surprising, but they shouldn't have been. To anyone besides Hermione, himself, and now Dumbledore, the truth would come as a shock. But the answer was rather simple and straightforward, though it had taken him a good while to get used to the idea of it. The Founders of Hogwarts each had very idealized views of who should be allowed admittance. For Godric Gryffindor, only the bravest ones should be allowed; for Helga Hufflepuff only those who showed the loyalty and hard-work should be admitted; for Rowena Ravenclaw only those who sought knowledge were worthy of the education that Hogwarts would provide. For Salazar Slytherin, only those of the purest bloodlines were worthy of admittance. After hearing from Lucius that he wasn't truly a Malfoy or even a pure-blood, the knowledge burned brightly in his brain. And when he spoke the words that would have opened the common-room door and let him inside, the door knew. The magic used upon it was old, as old as the school itself. Draco recalled the welcome feast when the Sorting Hat sang of the need for inter-house unity and the division that the Founders had unknowingly created amongst the students. Needless to say, Draco wouldn't ever be allowed into Slytherin Common Room on his own ever again.

His first question to Dumbledore had been about the Sorting Hat. If the restrictions placed upon the Houses were so strict, then why did they Sorting Hat place him in Slytherin? Dumbledore had calmly replied that the Sorting Hat can only read what's in the mind, not in the blood. In his mind Draco had been a pure-blood of the highest pedigree. It had been an easy placement. There had been no doubts then of his parentage. Indeed, there were no questions now about his true blood heritage.

Why would anyone even think that he wasn't really a Malfoy? They would be shocked, to say the least, to find that the pure-blood elitist was truly a half-blood. It was a complete turnaround from his previous way of thinking. The idea that he was now ranked among the lowest of wizarding society by standards that his family had upheld for generations was appalling. In his heart he knew that he wasn't low or beneath anyone, in fact he still held himself with the highest of regard. It was the dichotomy of it that was so confusing to him. In one hand he had his beliefs of elitism and blood status; in the other he knew that if he were to be judged by that same standard he would be the one found lacking. And that wouldn't do. So, part of him wanted to cling to the beliefs he'd held since birth and the other part wanted to toss them out and make up some new kind of hierarchy, one that he would easily be at the top of.

He could almost hear Granger in his head whispering, "I told you so…" It was actually quite annoying. So he ignored all the feelings of inadequacy that swelled like the rushing tide in his heart. He forced himself away from the thoughts of regret. He wanted to pretend that none of it happened, that his father was still alive and that the sadness and pain that had followed simply didn't exist. But, he pushed all the regret aside. The hollow feeling he had in his chest when he tried desperately to forget it all was pointless. It made no difference and it never would. All that was left now was the courage to face the morning as an outcast and attempt to live as normal a life as possible.

Today was the day that all sixth year students would begin their N.E.W.T. level classes in their chosen career paths. Draco hadn't had much say in the matter of his own path, but he had no real conflict with his father's decisions for him. Diplomacy wasn't such a bad choice, in fact it was a quite natural career path for the head of one of Britain's foremost wizarding families. He'd have to go through rigorous classes and make top marks on his N.E.W.T.'s, but as he predicted his social life to be non-existent for the next year, he believed he'd have plenty of time to study. Who knew what the future held, as a diplomat for the Ministry maybe he'd reform wizarding society or something equally as grand.

Resolution bolstered his confidence and the quashed feelings of defectiveness were hastily pushed aside. He strode across his small bedroom and took out the books he would need for that morning's lessons. The hallways were steadily filling with students as he walked to the Arithmancy classroom.

The classroom was nearly empty when he arrived. Only a few students were scattered about the room. The class rarely had many students but it seemed that even fewer planned on taking it at N.E.W.T. level this year. He took a seat by the window on the far side of the room away from the other students and waited for Professor Vector to arrive.

A plump blonde girl that he didn't recognize was chattering eagerly with a house-mate about their chosen career paths. Her companion began listing the Ministry jobs she hoped to obtain upon graduation. Draco was momentarily pulled into their conversation when the door swung open and Granger walked in. She noticed him immediately and her face heated as she remembered their encounter in the library from the previous night. She ended up taking a seat as far across the room from him as possible.

It was then that Professor Vector entered the room. She took her place at the head of the classroom and surveyed the students coolly before speaking.

"Good morning students. I'm pleased to see so many of you have decided to continue your studies in Arithmancy. As you may have already figured out, you all have chosen Ministry career paths with emphasis on diplomacy. Look around you; these will be your classmates for the remainder of your schooling here at Hogwarts and upon graduation, your colleagues at work." She paused and smiled at them.

Draco looked around the room then. There were only about ten students in the classroom all of which were eagerly surveying the others. Granger looked quite disturbed by this revelation and was pointedly ignoring him.

Granger raised her hand hesitantly and asked, "So, we are to take all our classes with these students for the rest of the year?"

"Well, not all your classes. You will still have History of Magic with your house and some classes will be combined with students from similar career paths. This is all outlined on your schedules, I believe."

At that nearly everyone in the room dove for their schedules. Sure enough, it was there, written out at the bottom of the parchment, "Classes will now be determined by career paths unless otherwise stated." Draco skimmed the schedule, "History of Magic with Slytherin House."

He looked up again as Granger raised her hand again. "But, Professor, we've always taken classes with our Houses. I don't see why…"

"Ms. Granger, I'm sorry, but this is the way we have always done things at Hogwarts. If you'd read your schedule more carefully you would have known this."

"But…"

Professor Vector raised her hand for silence. "No more questions, we really must begin. There is but a finite amount of time before your N.E.W.T.'s and I mean to cover the material adequately." She turned toward a series of charts hanging on the wall and began class.

Draco took a moment to glance over at Granger again while no one was paying attention. Her cheeks were red and she looked upset. Straightening, she squared her shoulders, took out some parchment, and began taking notes.

It turned out that they had the following class together also. At the break for lunch he watched from across the Great Hall as she told Potter and Weasley her "unfortunate" news. Potter looked over at him as she spoke and a silent staring contest ensued. Soon however, the bell rang announcing the end of lunch. Draco pulled out his schedule to see where he went next.

Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Auror and Law Enforcement students. Until dinner. "This day is just getting better and better," he thought acerbically.

* * *

Harry watched Malfoy from across the Great Hall the next day at dinner and continued to watch him over the course of the following weeks. There was a change in him that simply wasn't due to the death of his father. There was something else, something Harry couldn't place. He'd questioned Hermione once after dinner as they sat in the common room in Gryffindor tower doing homework. She denied knowing anything about what had happened to Malfoy, but Harry believed she knew more than she was letting on. He hadn't pushed her for information; he knew that if she had any idea of the secrets that he was keeping, that she'd stop at nothing to find out what they were. He still hadn't told anyone, not even Ron, about the prophecy. He felt guilty not telling them but he felt the burden of the prophecy was his own. He didn't want to share it and bring more danger upon his friends. Voldemort would stop at nothing to destroy him if he ever found out the full extent of the prophecy. No, Harry couldn't tell anyone.

It was also rather odd not having all his classes with Hermione and the other Gryffindors now. Since they had all chosen varying career paths their course loads were different. They still had Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic together, but other than that their schedules were completely opposing. He still wasn't sure quite how he and Ron had scraped the marks on the O.W.L.'s to be allowed into the Auror program. They'd talked about that, the three of them, and decided that Dumbledore or McGonagall had to have stepped in and said something to Snape.

It was also apparent that the Order wanted someone of their own inside Hogwarts. Nymphadora Tonks was made DADA teacher for the year. On one hand, Harry was glad to see a friendly face in the classroom after the tortuous year with Umbridge the previous term. But, he also didn't want to see her shoulder the curse that so obviously held claim over the seat of the DADA teacher.

Several weeks into the year, once everyone was quite settled into their new routines, Hermione casually asked him about that night at the Ministry. The common room was nearly deserted, only he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny remained. He felt the blood drain out of his face and his palms begin to sweat when he heard Hermione's next question.

"Harry, what was in the golden sphere?" She looked at him with wide open eyes from across the table. "The one with your name and Voldemort's?"

He glanced up to see Ron and Ginny also intently focusing on him. Ginny still had a hold of her quill; the ink began dripping down onto her homework as she waited for him to answer. Ron watched him wearily and glanced back at Hermione as if knowing that she was pushing him too hard. Harry looked back to Hermione then. Her skin was flushed and he noticed then that she'd lost weight. Her eyes seemed rather hollow and her cheeks were sunken. She stared at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to appease their curiosity. He couldn't. He wouldn't tell them. Let her keep her secrets about Malfoy, and he would keep his own.

It was Ron who spoke next. "Hermione, just drop it, he doesn't want to talk about it. Leave it alone."

"No, Ron! I won't." She looked back at him, tears forming in her eyes. "Harry, please. What was in that sphere? What are you keeping from us?"

It was too much, keeping it all alone. He did the only thing he felt that he could. He pushed away from the table in a rage and screamed. "What secrets are you hiding Hermione! I've seen the way you watch him and the way he watches you! Something happened at Malfoy Manor that you aren't telling us about! WHAT SECRETS ARE _YOU_ HIDING, HERMIONE!"

She was crying freely now and yet he didn't want to stop screaming at her. It was easier that way, to make her feel the pain that he felt. He wanted her to share it, all of it.

"Harry! Stop! It's not like that!" Her entire body was shaking with the tears. She stood slowly and moved towards him, her arms open, pleading with him. "I can't tell you. It's not my place… I want to, I do, but I can't!"

His voice was trembling in rage, and was deadly quiet in the silence of the common room. She stepped closer to him. She was still crying. He jumped back as she crowded closer. "Get away from me! You're keeping his secrets now is that it! You've chosen _HIM_ over me, over_ US_!" He gestured wildly to Ginny and Ron who were staring open mouthed at the two of them.

Ginny pushed away from the table and shook her head, "Don't drag me into this, Harry. This is your fight."

"Forget it. I'm going to bed."

He grabbed for his books and parchment and hastily gathered them up. Hermione moved to speak again but he brushed past her and up the stairs to his dormitory. He slammed the door behind him heedless of his roommates. Ron pushed the door open only moments later. Ron's face was red and angry but he didn't say a word. Harry grabbed a towel and headed for the showers. He emerged awhile later with a slightly cooling temper. He climbed up into his bed and moved to close the curtains around him when he heard Ron's voice from across the room, livid and hard.

"What did you mean when you said that you've seen her look at him? You didn't mean Malfoy?"

"Yeah, Ron. I did." Harry sat up and in the dark he could barely make out the silhouette of his friend. But the anger radiating off of him pulsated across the room.

"So, they've been watching each other. Since the beginning of term."

Harry didn't answer. He didn't need to. Ron was angry and nothing he said now would calm him. He wanted to feel guilt for instigating this fight between his two best friends, but he didn't. Instead he drifted off to sleep. Content momentarily that he wasn't the only one feeling pain.

* * *

Ginny stayed at the table for a moment after Ron stormed out. Hermione sank onto the couch in the common room. After the tears had dried and she began breathing normally again, Ginny sat down next to her on the couch and gave her a light hug. She didn't want to push her friend about her secrets. Hermione would come to her when she was ready and not a moment before.

"Ginny, I don't think I can keep this a secret anymore. I don't want to lie to you and Harry. Or to Ron. But, it's not my secret. I wanted to tell you. I just don't think I can keep it to myself anymore."

"I won't make you tell me. But, if you want someone to talk to, then I'm here. I'll listen. Ron and Harry will come around. They'll get over this. It can't be that bad."

"Oh, Ginny. But, it is. It is that bad." Hermione stopped and took a breath before beginning. "Do you remember that day we went to visit my parents at St. Mungo's?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well, I thought about telling you then but I stopped myself... You have to promise never to say a word of this to anyone. If this gets out then Malfoy's life is ruined."

"I won't tell anyone. I promise."

"When I was kidnapped, Malfoy wanted to kill me. I could tell. I could see it in his eyes. He hated me. He probably still hates me. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill me. He tried. He held a knife to my throat and tried to slit it. But he couldn't. Lucius was so angry. When Malfoy refused to do it Lucius attacked him. I was sure that he would kill him and then me too. But, he didn't, something happened and then Lucius fell over dying. It was like he'd been cursed with dark magic but there was no sign of it. I realize now that Malfoy did wandless magic, though I don't know if he meant to or not. But Lucius was dying. And then he told Malfoy that he wasn't really his father."

Ginny gasped. Her heart was racing. "Go on."

"Right before he died he called Malfoy something. I don't know what it means. I've been researching it in the library but I can't find it in any book. It's like it doesn't exist."

Hermione paused but Ginny squeezed her hand reassuringly and asked, "What did he call him?"

Hermione looked up into her eyes, the fear and reluctance evident in her face.

But, she steeled herself for the onslaught of guilt at the telling and continued, "He called him the Half-Blood Prince. Malfoy is the Half-Blood Prince. Whatever that means…"


	13. Chapter Twelve: Revelations

A/N: Sorry it has taken so long for this chapter to get posted. It's been done for quite some time but I had to hand-write the entire thing and wait patiently for my turn at the computer. I've been visiting my parents and my younger sister is a computer hog and it took me staying up until everyone was asleep to finally get my turn at it. Bear in mind that this has not been edited and as soon as it is I'll post the edited version. Thanks, enjoy and Review! Taigan

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Twelve: Revelations

Harry woke the following morning feeling only moderately guilty for instigating the fight between his two best mates. He dressed quickly while Ron thrashed about the dormitory obviously still enraged about the argument with Hermione. Seamus had been the first to feel the full brunt of Ron's anger when he'd innocently asked the reason for the commotion to which Ron answered by chucking his Potion's book straight at him. Needless to say, Seamus didn't venture asking a second time while Neville and Dean wisely stayed away and mere minutes upon waking, hastened from the dormitory down to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was only after the three of them were gone that Harry felt brave enough to venture a furtive glance Ron's way.

He'd calmed down significantly since his earlier outburst and was now perched on the edge of his bed staring down at his feet in dejection. Lying on the floor were his very worn pair of leather shoes that he'd most likely inherited from one of his older brothers. Without warning, Ron reached down grabbed a shoe and threw it against the far wall. Neither Harry nor Ron spoke for several moments but Ron did his voice was much quieter than Harry had expected it to be.

"Of all the people at Hogwarts, why does it have to be _him_?"

Harry paused a moment regretting even more his outburst the previous night, "I'm sure Hermione has some kind of explanation. I mean, she couldn't possibly see anything in Malfoy anyway."

Ron stood up quickly and turned on Harry, every ounce of anger and shame burst forth from his body as his voice boomed, "That's not what you said last night! The way you were talking, they've been making eyes at each other all term!"

Instantly Harry knew what was really at the heart of Ron's anger and cursed his own stupidity for not having realized it sooner. It wasn't that Hermione was keeping a secret from them, well that was part of it, but it was more that he'd insinuated that she was infatuated with Malfoy, or at least the other way around. That was what Ron was so angry about. They had never talked about it before, Harry and Ron, but it was understood between them. Ron liked Hermione. He liked her in a different way than Harry did. To Harry, Hermione was sort of sisterly in her own way, and sometimes rather motherly. But Harry knew that Ron didn't think of her that way, not that he'd ever said as much. He didn't need to. It was obvious to everyone else, the gestures, the fighting, the way Ron became all undone when she was around. While it may have been obvious to everyone else, it might not be so with Ron. Harry didn't think that Ron had quite worked out his true feelings for their friend. And last night was definitely a blow. This was worse than Viktor Krum. Worse than a thousand Viktor Krum's. This time it was Malfoy. Malfoy, who'd written "Weasley is Our King," who'd kidnapped their best friend, whose father was in league with Voldemort, who probably held junior Death Eater meetings in Slytherin common room. This was Malfoy, the same Malfoy who in second year had hoped that Hermione would become the next victim of the Heir of Slytherin, the same Malfoy who'd very nearly killed her himself that very summer. No wonder Ron was tossing his shoes about the room and books at his roommates, Harry felt very much the same way in that moment. But reason won out in the end as it very seldom did anymore with him and Harry felt the need to be the calming presence in the room.

"Ron, maybe you just need to try talking to her. Tell her how you feel…"

"NO!" Ron turned from him and ran his hands through his hair. His voice was quiet and hollow, "If I tell her then it's said. I couldn't ever take it back. She'd know how I… I just can't. Not now."

Ron still wouldn't look at him but Harry could tell that his face was very red. When Ron finally turned back around the freckles on his cheeks had momentarily melted into his deep blush. Harry knew that Ron was embarrassed, he'd never said anything about his feelings for Hermione before that morning.

Ron walked slowly across the room and bent to retrieve the shoe he'd tossed. Eager to change the subject he brought up Quidditch as a diversion.

"So, Quidditch tryouts are at the end of the week."

Harry eagerly took up the topic change, "Yeah. We need to fill the two open Beater positions and the Chaser positions."

Ron flashed a grateful look at Harry for conceding to the change in topic and continued, "Ginny mentioned that she might go out for Chaser this year, since she obviously won't be playing Seeker anymore."

"Ginny'd make a good Chaser," Harry said, "But it's all up to Katie this year, isn't it?"

"Yeah, she's got a good chance though. I'm sure."

"Yeah, a good chance."

* * *

Hermione had already eaten breakfast and was headed toward the library for some early morning studying by the time that Harry and Ron made it down to the Great Hall. She was still shaken and upset about the fight and wasn't eager to encounter either Ron or Harry in the hallways or common room. She was very glad it was Wednesday as she didn't have any classes with either of them.

The new scheduling system had taken some getting used to but she readily acknowledged the logic of it. Naturally certain career tracks necessitated varying classes and different applications of the subject matter. The Diplomacy track was one of the more difficult of the choices because it required such a broad base of classes and a stringent course load. She was still required to take Potions, Transfigurations, and Charms because they were all very practical classes and because a broad knowledge base would prove useful with a career in the Ministry. Muggle Studies and Arithmancy were required to further broaden the spectrum, and just for fun Hermione elected to continue with Advanced Runes because it was, after all, her favorite class.

Once in the library, Hermione set her things down at a quiet table toward the back. The morning sunlight filtered through the long parallel windows and heated the cool air. She sat with her back to the sun and let the warmth infuse her as she neatly arranged her homework in front of herself on the table.

She pulled out her Arithmancy homework and tried to concentrate on it but found that she couldn't. The fight last night and the look on Ron's face as Harry had fueled the fire were just too much to bear. She'd laid in bed that night shaking with humiliation and anger and sadness because of the truth of it all. Everything Harry had said, all the mean, nasty things were all perfectly right. She'd barely been able to sleep, let alone work on next week's homework for class. The grief was just about to overwhelm her when she noticed Malfoy sitting alone a few tables away. He didn't seem to have noticed her however and appeared to be going over his homework as well.

The light from the windows fell across the floor slowly and gently caressed his face and hands as he worked so diligently on his homework. She'd never really spent more than a few seconds looking at him, no longer than she had to certainly, and never as he was so preoccupied. She really felt quite guilty for staring but found that she couldn't look anywhere else. There was a difference in him from the previous year, an almost quieter feeling about him that Hermione doubted anyone had really noticed. Until that moment she hadn't noticed either.

The sun caught his silvery hair and warmed it so that it radiated in brightness. His skin, that she'd once thought so pale and rather sickly looking practically glowed in the morning sunlight. His hands moved gracefully across the stack of parchment and as he held his quill. It caught her by surprise that she'd never seen hands that graceful before that moment. Ron's hands were large and bony and Harry's were, well she'd never really noticed them much before, not really. But, Malfoy. Malfoy had truly beautiful hands.

She stopped suddenly, frightened of the thoughts she'd just had. She shouldn't be thinking any part of Malfoy was beautiful. She should hate him or pity him in the very least. She repeated to herself that she should never, ever admire him in any way. She didn't want to make the things that Harry'd said true.

It took her a moment to realize that she was still staring, and yet another to register that he was now watching her. His face didn't hold malice. That was the first of her revelations. That it held confusion and loneliness was the second. And then it was gone, almost as quickly. She barely had time to process it before he'd schooled his face into his signature sneer. It didn't look right on him anymore, not after the way he'd looked just a moment ago, so free and perfect in the sun.

Quickly she looked down at her homework, well what was done of it anyway. But, it was hopeless. It was just a mass of numbers; she couldn't make any sense of it now. After a brief inner battle, one that she lost, she glanced back up hesitantly at the source of her distraction. He was gone. His homework and quill had vanished as well. She surveyed the room and nearly shrieked when she saw him pull out a chair on the opposite side of the table, her table, and drop his things down onto the surface.

He was still wearing his sneer, "Morning Granger," he said elegantly as he sank into his chair as if it were a throne. He watched her from beneath pale brows as his voice drawled, "I hope you had a pleasant night's rest."

It was the weight of her argument with Harry and Ron and her own guilt for keeping his secrets that caused her to lash out at him. "Just what do you think _you_ are doing here, Malfoy?"

"It's called studying. I'm sure it's a concept you're familiar with, is it not?" He stretched his legs out underneath the table as he un-stacked his books, drawing out the Arithmancy text and opening it in front of him. Casually he glanced over his parchment again, ignoring her completely.

It was frustrating, his calmness. How could he just sit there so coolly while she was torn in pieces as a result of his appearance? Angered she questioned, "Do you mind?" She threw her arm wide and gestured at all his things crowding the table, _her_ table.

He looked up from his studying and smirked, "No, of course not. Here let me help." He reached over, across the table, and gathered her things into a tidy corner. He met her eyes and said, "There now, isn't that better?"

His eyes dropped down to her homework lying unfinished in front of her. His smirk returned almost wickedly. "What?!" she questioned inelegantly as he continued his perusal of her homework. "I'm not letting you copy if that's what you're here for."

He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair again. "Oh relax, woman. I was just going to point out a mistake, but… oh, never mind. I'm quite sure you can work it out on your own."

"A mistake? I can assure you that there is no mistake!" But even as she said it she knew that the likelihood that there was one was high. She hadn't been able to work on it last night and even when she tried she'd only put forth a modicum of effort.

He surprised her when he reached over and pointed out the error. He didn't elaborate or criticize, as she would have done in his position. He waited until she spotted it and then leaned back again in his chair, almost as if it never happened. Hastily she made notes in the margins and corrected the error as he went on about his own work. If he was amused by her energetic response he didn't let on about it initially. It wasn't until after she had it fixed and had moved on to the next problem that he let the evidence of his amusement show through.

"What exactly is it that they teach you in those Muggle schools? Certainly not rudimentary math skills."

"Manners," she shot back vindictively, "Apparently that was a sorely neglected piece of your own education."

"Granger, you wound me!" He clutched his heart in mock pain and sneered, "Retract those claws you wild beast before you do serious injury to someone."

"Very funny. Honestly, if you hadn't just shown some sense of feeling towards someone other than _yourself_, then I'd be forced to jinx you."

He almost smiled. Almost. "And that's the thanks I get for saving you from failure? We should study together more often Granger if it means immunity from your violent tendencies."

She folded her arms over her chest and sat inelegantly back in her seat while Malfoy gloated over his apparent victory. She thought he'd get up and leave after their sparring but he didn't. He stayed where he was on the other side of the table flipping casually through the pages of his text. She didn't ask him to leave and the fact that she wasn't running from him either weighed heavy on her heart.

This arrangement, or lack thereof, was too undefined, too chaotic to be comfortable. Mere months ago she never would have foreseen this almost human-like side to Malfoy. It was as if he had two sides, the first being his "persona," the side that the world saw and identified with. And then there was the other side, the private side that he kept hidden from view, tucked away like the underground chamber of Malfoy Manor. She had seen the inside of that room, had lived out some of her worst fears and greatest revelations in that room. And now she was sharing a table with him, well sort of sharing, more like occupying the same space. It was almost as if she could see inside his soul or something, the secret chamber inside his heart, if he let her that is.

He was much like Harry in that way, with the secrets and the duality of his nature. She had seen Harry at his finest hours, fighting Death Eaters in the Ministry, warding of Dementors, battling Trolls. But, did she really know him? Did she truly have access to the inner workings of his mind? Up until last year she would have immediately answered yes to that question. Now however, now that he was keeping so much to himself, hiding his secrets, she wasn't so sure. Maybe she didn't know Harry quite as well as she thought that she did. It sickened her to think that maybe she knew Malfoy better than she knew Harry, that maybe it was easier to understand Malfoy now that she knew his secret.

Cautiously she peeked over at him. He was deeply involved with his studying and she took advantage of the silence and his inattention to continue with her introspection. She knew that it must be hard for him to deal with the concept of being "less" than what he thought he was. She could relate. When she'd first received her Hogwart's letter detailing to her parents that she was a young witch, her magic ripe within her, she'd been overjoyed. Immediately her parents had sent off for books on the subject, anything they could find, and eagerly she delved into a world of wonder and almost endless possibility. Then the pristine vision of her new world came crashing down around her. The portrait in her mind of the pristine world she would enter became daunting and grotesque. She realized that the magical world was bound by prejudices just like those of the Muggle world. In wizarding society those whose lineage was sullied with "tainted" blood, dirty blood, was considered inferior. Being of Muggle descent she was deemed as less than the others, akin almost to animals in status.

Now however, she wanted to change all that, she wanted to reform wizarding society, she sought the preservation of the welfare of all magical beings, whether it be witches and wizards or house-elves. The entire purpose of S.P.E.W. was not wholly intended for house-elves, though she'd certainly thought that they should be given rights. S.P.E.W. was merely an extension of her broader goals of reform: the equality of all wizards regardless of blood status.

Now, possibly with Malfoy she had an ally. To the world he was a Pureblood of perfect heritage, he was almost like a race horse bred carefully with the intent of the creation of a perfect tool. And that's what he was to Lucius Malfoy, to Voldemort. Well, they were wrong about only one thing and that was the cause his son would symbolize: the equality of wizarding society, not the destruction of it.

He sat across the table from her, only a few steps away, wholly unaware of the plans racing through her mind. She needed him, she needed him to make it work. If she had Britain's most influential young wizard on her side, willing to fight or at the very least back her up, then she might have a glimmer of hope for meeting her goals somewhere during her own lifetime. With Malfoy's help, willing or not, she would be an unstoppable harbinger of social reform. She was clever enough; she'd easily learned to manipulate people into achieving her own goals. Hadn't she led Umbridge to the centaurs by latching onto the woman's own prejudices and letting her nail her own coffin closed. True, she felt horrible about it, but it had been necessary. They'd all thought that Voldemort held Sirius captive in the Ministry and though she'd been skeptical of Harry's vision at the time, she had knowingly participated.

Hermione continued to mull over the new prospect of an unwitting ally in her cause for social reform and barely registered that the first class was about to begin until Malfoy rose from the table and gathered his books into his bookbag. She was doodling absentmindedly on a corner of her parchment, her mind far away, when he roused her from her thoughts.

"That was the bell, and if you don't fancy being tardy, I'd suggest you hurry up." He stood next to her chair and looked down on her impatiently. The sun was brighter and danced like melting fire on the surface of his skin. Hastily she began cramming her things into her bookbag and hoisted it up on her shoulder. She struggled under the weight of too many library books.

He noticed her struggle and for a moment ignored it and turned to walk away. She fell into step behind him and feeling too much like a puppy following its master, or a house-elf for that matter, she boldly stepped up beside him. It was merely a walk to class and it angered her that it took so much for her to do so little. As she fell into step beside him, he eyed her narrowly before nodding his head minutely. It was then for the first time in many months that Hermione felt that maybe things were falling back into place. She felt a strange sense of oneness with herself and yet a hollow feeling dropped down into her heart. She felt almost incomplete. Trying to compensate, she hoisted her bookbag higher up on her shoulder and grunted at the weight.

Again Malfoy looked down at her. This time he sighed in exasperation and with a roll of his eyes he stopped in the middle of the corridor and pulled the bookbag from her shoulder.

"Honestly Granger, why do you insist on lugging bricks around in this thing? You really should consider stepping down from your high horse and hire a house-elf. They're really quite handy, you know. Excellent for all the heavy lifting." He spoke so bitingly that she felt momentarily stung. That feeling was shortly replaced with anger.

"For your information, they're not _bricks_, you moron, they're _books_. You know… to read? As for the house-elf bit, it getting quite old. I'm sure you'd agree seeing as how you were probably raised by one, what with your mum and dad away hatching evil plans with the Dark Lord."

He'd been watching her with increasingly narrowing eyes all during her speech. His cheeks flamed slightly but the color recessed and all at once he caught her by surprise yet again. He laughed. It was a deep laugh, a true laugh, and if she thought him beautiful as he'd sat in the sunlight of the library, at this moment with his head thrown back and one hand loosening his tie, she thought him almost unnaturally beautiful. She immediately pushed the thought away and stamped down on it hard to eliminate it from existence.

When he stopped laughing his eyes still danced. The steel grey colored to almost blue and pierced her own as other eyes watched amazed at the scene in the corridor. He seemed to sense the other students as well and in amused bravado swept her bookbag onto his shoulder and beckoned her on to Arithmancy.

A/N: Sorry to end there, but it had to end somewhere. I've got big things in the works for the next couple chapters. If you have ideas or suggestions, drop me a line or leave a review with your ideas. I am always open to new concepts and love to hear a fresh voice. Hope you enjoyed it and that it didn't retreat into corniness. Thanks for reading, and please Review!


	14. Chapter Thirteen: The Letter

A/N:Here is the edited versionof Chapter Thirteen. It's essentially the same as the old Ch. 13 but with better punctuation. Please Review!!!

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Thirteen: The Letter

The crisp white envelope stared up at him silently daring him to open it. He didn't want to. Draco hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was afraid. Afraid of the contents of a simple, stupid, bloody envelope, he cursed himself silently. Within the envelope sitting ominously on his desk were the secrets of his past, the truth that he desperately didn't want to face. Coward.

"Open the bloody thing!" He repeated it over and over in his mind like a mantra, letting the words sink. They didn't. It was like oil and water, it just wasn't mixing. He couldn't open it yet. It was all just too much, the never-ending anxiety, the trepidation.

Finally Draco could take it no longer. Slowly, carefully, he reached out for it. His hand was shaking. He watched, as if detached from his body, as his hand slid across the polished surface of his desk and took hold of a corner of the envelope. He pulled it closer. The handwriting on the front was sweeping and elegant. In silken lines it addressed him: _Draco Malfoy_. His mother really did have quite lovely handwriting. Cautiously he flipped it over. The Malfoy crest was embedded in wax on the back. He dropped it back down onto the desk as if burned.

Wanting to delay the inevitable moment for as long as possible, Draco pulled open the top desk drawer and removed the plain wooden box from its depths. It was a rather nondescript box that kept Draco's most horrid reminders of that summer hidden. He'd tried to forget, to burn it all from his mind, to keep the truth tucked away where it couldn't hurt him. He'd tried for months to pretend that everything was normal and that the revelations of his final encounter with his father simply had been a nightmare. He'd tried but failed utterly.

Slowly he lifted the box from the table. He didn't open it. He hadn't opened it since he'd first shoved everything into it and then out of sight his very first night back at Hogwarts after the incident. But now was the time. He felt for one moment that he was ready to face all his demons at once and just to get the damn thing over with. Maybe then the nightmares would stop.

Maybe.

The worst thing about his nightmares was that they were real. Not one single part was dreamed up or fantasized. It made it all the more horrible to bear. The horrors of that fateful summer morning now hounded him like the dogs of war. He was tired of running from the dark corners lurking in his heart, tired of fleeing from the death of his father. It bothered him that Lucius had such a hold on him still. After all this time, after all the months of loneliness and pain, Lucius still scared him. And he was dead. In death maybe Draco feared him more.

He'd wondered once, in a moment of abject solitude, how his life would be different if he hadn't chosen to fight his father, if he'd simply acquiesced. But as soon as the thought had entered his mind he pushed it away again. It was better this way, he had to admit. For all the ways it was worse, it was still better. Even now he could barely look himself in the mirror, he dreaded the thought of hating himself more had he gone through with his fathers demands to kill Granger; he wasn't used to the thought of hating himself more.

He was psyching himself up, running over every detail of that summer in his mind, reliving it. Some kind of confidence boost. No, he'd been a coward long enough, he was through with that. He was ready for the truth. The first step was to open the box and deal with what was inside. Quickly, to end the discomfort, he thrust the lid of the wooden box open and removed the velvet pouch from inside. Its contents weighed heavy in his hands and even heavier on his heart. Tugging the string loose he pulled the bag open so that its contents spilled forth.

The ring and the dagger were like shackles in his hands. He studied them still afraid. The emerald encrusted dagger was still shiny, still sharp. Carefully he ran a finger along the length of the blade, not hard enough to cut his skin. He stopped short at the sight of dried blood on its edge. Granger's blood. Dirty blood like his own. If Narcissa really was his mother, if she had given him life and if Lucius wasn't his father, then who was?

Lucius. He'd hated and feared and admired and worshipped him all his life. He was scared of him, had horrible memories of his father, but… he had wanted to follow in his footsteps. His father's ring, Lucius' ring, stared up at him. He slid the ring onto his finger as he'd seen his father do countless times during his childhood. From its place on his finger, the ring watched him expectantly. It knew. The ring knew that he wasn't really a Malfoy, he could feel it. Draco wasn't sure how, but was certain that it knew the truth. But, as with most jewelry, the ring was indifferent. It didn't care who wore it as long as they were the Malfoy heir. At least he had that. The ring recognized his true blood but it didn't matter. Finally something that didn't care one way or the other about who he really was. Draco, not really a Malfoy, but not anything else either. Something else. He welcomed the indifference, embraced it.

The ring was still too large for his fingers but Draco knew that one day it would fit him. Either he would grow into it, or it would grow to fit him. He wasn't sure. Soon. For all practical purposes it was already _his_ ring. He was Malfoy. His confidence bolstered, he turned his attention again toward the envelope.

He'd written his mother after the start of term. In that letter he'd put voice to all the questions that had been plaguing his mind these last few months. And now she'd written him back. In all truth he'd received the letter several days ago, but he'd been too afraid of the truth to actually open it. The truth was final, too final. All this time he'd had the freedom to pretend that none of it had happened, that the sins of the summer simply didn't exist. It was easy being at school away from home. Or it would have been easy if his Slytherin house-mates had been on speaking terms with him.

He'd put it off long enough. It was time to learn the truth. He opened the envelope without hesitation. His eyes quickly scanned its contents and his heart fell to his knees in shock.

This was not good news.

This was much worse than he'd anticipated.

He had to warn Granger.

He prayed it wasn't too late.

* * *

Hermione had finally settled into a routine that she liked quite nicely. Though her classes were decidedly more difficult and she had to study more often, she found that it was easier this term. Partially this was due to the fact that she no longer had to coach the other students along during classes anymore. She still read over Harry and Ron's assignments from time to time, but lately they hadn't bothered asking her. It seemed that because of that one small fact that her load had lightened significantly.

But as she sat down to her own homework she was rather regretful about the lack of anyone needing to be tutored. As annoying as it could be at times, someone asking for her help was flattering in a way. The truth was now that Harry and Ron were in different classes she felt oddly detached from them somehow, almost left out. But they both wanted to be Aurors and had somehow managed to obtain the requisite number of O.W.L.'s. She liked to think that maybe she'd had something to do with their achievements. Not that she'd ever tell them that. Now that she and Ron were no longer on speaking terms while she and Harry barely were, she felt again as she had as a first-year: lonesome.

That's why, when Malfoy strode into the library and immediately locked eyes with her and started in her direction, she felt relieved and almost happy to see him. Almost. The look on his face was enough to eradicate any and all feelings of happiness.

His strides were long and heavy, deliberate even. His eyes became narrow and piercing. Malfoy's entire face seemed filled with emotion, anger, fear. She thought they'd been getting along sort of lately. Then she noticed a parchment clenched tightly in his fist. In seconds he was standing before her dragging her by the elbow out of her chair. She struggled to quickly grab her books together and pulled out of his grasp.

"What is all this about, Malfoy?!" Her voice was tinged in confusion and anger.

He looked down at her almost wildly before scanning the library quickly. "Not here, there are too many people around," he started to grab her books from her, "Come on. We have to hurry."

He turned on his heel and started out of the library carrying her books the entire way. She reluctantly followed.

In the hallway where it was alright to talk she turned to him and demanded, "Just where is it that we're going?"

"My room."

"Your room? Whatever for?" She was shocked and her voice betrayed it.

He stopped walking and turned around. As if speaking to a child he arrogantly announced, "It just so happens to be the only place in this entire bloody school where it's safe for me to tell you what is that I have to tell you." His patience was wearing thin, that much was obvious. "Are you just going to stand there all day or are you coming with me?"

He waited for her response expectantly.

"Oh, alright. If you insist."

They started moving again. Faster this time. With the pace he was setting she was sure they had to be breaking some sort of school record. After a minute of the brisk pace her shins began to ache. After several more minutes they threatened to revolt. She grabbed onto the back of Malfoy's robe and stopped him in the center of the abandoned corridor.

"We have got to slow down. My legs are killing me."

He rolled his eyes and sighed audibly running a nervous hand through his hair. He said harshly, "Well Granger, its your life. Not mine."

That got her moving again. The two of them walked from the fourth floor down to the first, above the Great Hall. They passed the D.A.D.A. classroom and the Hospital Wing into a rarely used corridor of the school. Hermione had never been that far down that particular corridor and was surprised at all the empty rooms and chambers located in it.

"You aren't in the Slytherin dormitories anymore?" She asked before she realized how personal that question was.

He looked down on her cautiously before answering. "No. I have my own room now."

He left the real reasons for the change hanging in the air. She didn't know whether the Slytherins just didn't want him around of if maybe there was another reason. Malfoy stopped before a plain brown door at the end of the corridor. He looked at her for one brief moment as if deciding whether this was a good idea or not. He sighed and spoke the password to a small pastoral scene in a simple frame, "Ab imo pectore." He glanced at her to gauge her reaction. "'From here on.' Dumbledore's idea. He set the room up for me."

"Oh," she said quietly. It felt so odd to be standing outside _his_ room during the middle of the day. She was at a loss for words. "It seems appropriate."

The door swung open and he stepped aside to let her enter first. Never in her wildest imaginings would she ever have expected Malfoy to suddenly be gallant. He seemed to be filled with surprises lately. As he shut the door behind them, Hermione felt anxious and nervous standing in the center of his room. It wasn't how she had pictured it. Instead of being dark and damp it was surprisingly bright and warm. His bed stood imposingly on the opposite wall by a row of windows overlooking the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's Hut. She pointedly ignored the bed and turned her attention to the other furniture in the room. A wardrobe was placed against one wall and there was a small fireplace on the other side of the room by his writing desk. But it was his bookcase that garnered her attention. She made a beeline for it and quickly scanned the rows of rare books. She looked back up to him in awe and asked, "You really have a copy of "_Auriferae artis_?" And "The Ripley Scroll?" Malfoy, there are only twenty-one of these in existence! How did you manage to get one?"

He smiled hollowly and answered, "It's a hobby of mine."

"Alchemy? A hobby? May I?" She looked up at him pleadingly. Never in her life had she wanted to read a book more than she did right now.

He nodded his head and sat down at his desk watching. She flipped the pages carefully so as not to damage them. The books were written by well known Alchemists around the sixteenth century. Occasionally she glanced back at Malfoy to ensure that it was alright that she looked at them. They were priceless.

Finally at one point he leaned over and said quietly, "I've got some of Paracelsus' journals. If you ever wanted to look at those."

She nearly dropped the books she was holding. "Paracelsus. You have some of his journals? How in the world did you manage that? What I am saying? I would love to see them! Do you have them here?"

"No. But I could owl Mother and have her send them. It would be no trouble. Really."

"Oh, yes please! That would mean so much!" She had never been happier in her life. She smiled genuinely up at him. But he was watching her so intently, so seriously that she slowly put the books away and said, "You had something you wanted to show me?"

"Here. Just read it." He held out the letter.

She opened it slowly, unsure of what it was. As she read the first few lines she looked back up at him questioningly. "Are you sure you want me to read this. It's quite personal."

"It concerns you as well." He stood up and made his way to the window. He looked out at the forest beyond leaving her in relative privacy to read the letter. She read it once, then again to clarify. This was a bad letter. A very bad letter indeed.

_My Dearest Draco,_

_I know that you must have many questions and I will do my best to answer them. Your first must be why did we keep your heritage a secret for so many years? You must know, my son, that it was never my intention to keep the secret for as long as we did. That was your father's suggestion. He never wanted you to know. It is regrettable the way in which you discovered the truth. I hope you forgive me for that. I feel partially responsible for the death of your father. And please don't hold your father's actions against him. He was truly a good man and I have always loved him. I feared him, yes, but I loved him too. _

_The answer to your second question is "no." Lucius was not your real father. In all other senses of the word he was. But biologically he was not. The incidence of your birth was entirely of his own creation. I would never come up with a scheme as farfetched and improbable as he did. You see, we had tried several times unsuccessfully to conceive an heir but each time we were met with disappointment. I'd suggested going to a wizard specialist but Lucius quickly negated that idea. He feared the publicity. I desperately wanted a child and your father needed an heir. We didn't know what to do. So Lucius took it upon himself to find one by any means necessary. _

_One afternoon he brought home a Muggle man that he'd placed under the Imperius curse. Your father was that man. He looked remarkably similar to your father and as you know our entire family shares our fair haired looks. Your real father was the man Lucius brought home. I didn't at first agree to the idea and Lucius kept the man at the Manor for several days waiting for me to acquiesce to his demands. I agreed on one condition, that you would always be treated as one of the family. You would be my son and Lucius' as well. He agreed. And you were never poorly treated while you lived here. Lucius accepted you and raised you as any father would. He was content that you would one day replace him as head of our family. He wanted nothing more than for you to follow him in every aspect of his life. So, Draco, don't be disheartened to hear the circumstances of your birth. We both did what we thought was necessary for the family. You were so important that we felt it was our duty to our name to carry it on. _

_Never forget, you were born for a purpose: to uphold the Malfoy name. _

_Love always, _

_Your Mother _

_P.S. It is rather inconsequential I believe, but you may wish to know, Lucius did away with all evidence regarding your birth and that includes your Muggle father. No one needs to know this sordid history of your birth, so I recommend discretion. Oh, and darling, no need to worry about that Granger girl who was witness to your father's confession. She's being taken care of. Have a nice term. I love you._

A/N: Thanks for reading. If you have any thoughts or comments don't hesitate to let me know. Also, if you have any ideas or suggestions for Chapter 14, I'd love to hear them. Send me a private email or review the story. I'll seriously consider whatever you say. I've started work on it so... maybe next week it will be up! Hopefully. Thanks again! Taigan


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Trust

Chapter Fourteen: Trust

"Harry, could I talk to you for a moment?" Ginny asked as she, Harry, and Ron walked back to the Quidditch tent after practice.

He cast a sideways glance her way his brow knitted in confusion, but nodded his head before turning towards Ron. "I'll catch up to you in a minute."

Ron didn't object but walked off shooting an icy glare at his sister. She knew that Ron was mad at her for interfering but she didn't care. His anger at her wasn't the problem; his anger at Hermione, however, was her problem. And she intended to solve it.

Harry stood awkwardly waiting for her to speak. He was caked in mud from the pitch and his robes were damp with sweat. The bridge of his nose was shiny and he had a smudge of dirt across his cheekbone. Ginny thought he looked wonderful. She knew that she must have looked like a fright but that this was probably the only time she'd have to speak with him privately. She gave up on vanity.

She'd tried talking to him before, right after the fight with Hermione but he always had an excuse. Homework. A chess-match with Ron. A trip to the library. She'd known the last one to be a lie because Hermione had been spending all her free time in the weeks after the fight in solitude of the library. Harry was just avoiding the problem. He didn't want to deal with it. And now Ginny wanted to know why.

She was tired of the fighting. She was tired of the tension, the practical hatred between Ron and Hermione. Harry had instigated it all and now wasn't claiming any of his own responsibility. They were all so stubborn. None of them were willing to be the first to admit they were wrong, and they'd all done something that warranted an apology. Well, maybe they didn't all have things to be sorry about. Hermione didn't. Not really. And once Harry knew what she knew he could try to smooth things out with Ron and she'd work on Hermione.

Discreetly Ginny scanned their surroundings for any eavesdroppers and spotted some younger students. She reached out and clutched his arm and dragged them out of earshot. He watched her curiously not saying anything but she could tell he was annoyed. She resolved to be brief.

"How tired are you of this stupid fight?" She asked quickly, cutting right to the chase.

He reared. "Ginny, it's not a stupid fight! Ron has every right to be mad at Hermione. She's been keeping secrets from us all term!" He was turning red in the face and his hands were clenched at his sides. Harry was definitely struggling to compose himself. "We deserve to know the truth!"

_Patience Ginny,_ she told herself silently before addressing Harry again. "Did you ever even think that maybe she hasn't told either of you for a reason? That maybe she has some sort of rational explanation for it all? Did you ever even ask her!" She was trying to control her temper now. Harry's anger was getting to her. She was close to the edge. "Did you ever once consider that maybe, just maybe, she _can't _tell you!

Harry threw his arms up in the air and rolled his eyes angrily. "Ginny, this is just ridiculous! We're her _best_ friends! We deserve to know the truth and to get mad if we don't. Ron has every right to get mad. She lied to us…" He paused momentarily as if realizing something for the first time. "Wait a minute… You know don't you? Hermione told you already, didn't she!" When Ginny didn't immediately respond he yelled, "DIDN'T SHE!"

"Whether she did or not, it's her business to tell whom she pleases. Maybe she didn't tell your or Ron because she knew that you would overreact and make trouble," she said haughtily, arms crossed over her chest as she stared down Harry. "For whatever reason, Hermione feels that she can't tell you the truth. Can you even begin to imagine the guilt she's carrying around because she can't tell you?" She took a step closer to Harry staring hard into his green eyes before continuing, "You know what Harry, I think you can…"

He flinched involuntarily at her words. He'd been listening only half-heartedly during her speech until that last sentence. As the veiled accusation fell from her lips Harry's eyes narrowed and she saw the muscle in his jaw twitch. That simple movement was all she needed to see to figure out that Harry had a secret too. What the secret actually was she didn't have the foggiest notion, but she'd watched all term as it slowly ate away at him.

At first she'd thought that it was because of Sirius' death or maybe Hermione's kidnapping. But this was more than just grief or anger. Harry had a secret and as far as she knew he hadn't told anyone, not even Ron.

Ginny thought of how differently Harry had been acting the past few months and thought she could trace the oddities all the way back to the beginning of that summer. When he'd first gone to stay with them at the Burrow she'd noticed. But Hermione's kidnapping had camouflaged his underlying feelings.

He'd been reserved, more reserved that was normal, and at first she'd brushed it off as sadness for Sirius and fear for Hermione. But they found her and she was alive and relatively well. When they all went to visit Hermione at St. Mungo's Ginny knew that immediately that Hermione was keeping something from them. It wasn't long before Hermione had confided in her all the secrets of Malfoy's past.

Harry though… Harry was harder to peg and even harder to understand. Weeks had gone by and he'd only grown more reserved and withdrawn. And then, the night of the fight, Hermione had said something that instantly alerted Ginny. She'd mentioned the spheres, the prophecies at the Ministry. Ginny put two and two together and realized that somehow Harry had found out what his bell-jar that held his prophecy contained. Either he found out before it was destroyed or after, but Ginny was sure now that Harry knew. And now she was determined to find out what information the sphere contained.

* * *

Draco watched as Granger read the letter the first time. And the second. She sat in shock on the floor in front of his bookcase with his books piled around her, mingling with her own from the library. He moved away from the window toward the center of the room as she sat silently rereading the letter a third time. He longed to say something, anything to break the silence that attacked the room violently. But he couldn't. The words made their way to his lips but got caught in the growing lump in his throat. So he stood silently watching, waiting.

She was still staring at the letter clutched tightly in her chalk-white fingers. Her thick hair hung down over her slumped shoulders and obscured her face from view. He wanted to see her reaction, to note it and gauge it. He wanted to see her, to look into her eyes, but was afraid to. It was his fault, this situation with his father and now his mother, the entire ordeal was his fault. His stomach fell down to his knees when he realized what he'd just done. His mother was plotting Granger's death and he'd thought the smart thing to do was to show her? To flaunt it in her face? _What was he thinking!_

He approached her cautiously, hesitantly as he would a wounded animal if he was hunting. But Granger wasn't an animal. She was there now, sitting right in front of him. He'd brought her, lead her even, only to dangle the daunting information of her own imminent death right in front of her. Guilt poured in waves down on him. He wanted to apologize, to say something to justify the guilt his felt. It wasn't something he was used to. He didn't even know how to apologize. But the hollow part of his heart was forcing him to comfort her, and himself, anyway that it could.

"Granger, are you alright?" He took another step closer but she still wouldn't look up at him. He'd have to try harder to get her to understand how sorry he was. "I should have warned you about the letter. It was inconsiderate of me…" He cut himself off unintentionally when she finally brought her eyes up to meet his for the first time since he'd handed her the letter. Maybe she did understand.

Her eyes were dark pools of emotion, fearful, haunting. Trusting. It was the blind trust in her eyes that stilled him. Why should she trust him? He'd just brought news that his mother was plotting to kill her. She sat on the floor of his room scared and alone, the tears in her eyes glistening in the sun. But she trusted him. For some unknown reason she had put her faith in him. It was a disconcerting feeling. He was afraid of it, weary of it, but he was heartened by it too.

"It's not your fault," her voice was barely a whisper and he heard the rumble of approaching tears. He didn't know what to do. For the first time in his life he was at a loss.

"I don't know how to stop her. She won't understand. She thinks she's doing me a favor," he stopped and looked at her; she was looking up at him with an expression he'd never seen before. He couldn't place it. Suddenly he felt such immense guilt pressing down on him. Slowly he sank down onto the floor next to her. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

Over the course of the term the guilt had gnawed at him gradually, bit by bit, tearing down his walls, his defense. And now he had no idea what to do next but to ask help from the last person in the world he'd ever have expected to give it. He tried but he couldn't take his eyes off the girl sitting beside him. The letter lay in a heap in her lap still entwined with her fingers. Chestnut curls hung heavily over her shoulders and brushed the collar of her sweater. He felt cold all of a sudden and chills danced along his spine, creeping up to wreak havoc at his neck and in the tips of his fingers. The empty feeling in his stomach grew more expansive until it felt like a giant hole that his heart would fall through. Draco didn't know what to do.

As if sensing his confusion she folded the letter neatly back up and placed in gingerly into its envelope. She looked at him shyly before standing up slowly. He stood up with her.

Granger's voice was quiet and tender when she spoke. "You didn't have to show me this," she paused as if searching for the right words, as if there could be words appropriate for a situation like this. "You took a chance in trusting me with this information. The very least I could do would be to offer the same trust in you."

He stood up facing her, the confusion and anger seeping out. "This is different! Don't you get it! My mother is trying to have you killed! Because of ME! Because of what I did to you this summer!"

Her face registered emotions that he couldn't begin to comprehend at the mention of that summer, but she quickly schooled her features. "What happened this summer only proves to me that you were brave enough to fight something that you didn't agree with. It only proves to me that you are your own person, separate from your parents, and your ideals are your own. Not theirs."

She took a step closer to him and he felt that hole in his stomach expand further. He felt his heart beating erratically at the look in her eyes. When she spoke again he could hardly listen to what she said so intent was his observation of her features. "It takes more courage and bravery to stand up to something that everyone you love believes." She put her hand on his arm. It felt like fire. He couldn't speak. "You challenged things that have been ingrained in your being since birth. In a lot of ways I think you are more brave than anyone I've ever known. You're certainly more brave than I'll ever be."

Her eyes were searching his. Draco wanted desperately to flee, to run from her and the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. She looked like she was waiting for something. He didn't know what, if anything he could say. He didn't feel brave or courageous. He felt like a coward. "I'm not. If I were brave then I'd have stood up to my father long ago. I didn't even know that I disagreed with him until it was over. I don't think I even realized it then. No, I wasn't brave. I was a coward."

"What was the first thing you did when you read this letter?" Granger held the letter in her hand and pushed it at him slowly.

He was confused, not really sure what she was asking. "I came to find you. I was worried for you."

She smiled quietly and he saw the tears again in her eyes. "See, the very first thing you did wasn't to wallow in sorrow at the information of your birth. You did the courageous thing and came to find me. You cared more for someone else than you did for yourself. That is the bravest thing any person could do."

"I just wanted you to know." He didn't know what to say, he was so unused to this kind of conversation. "I'm not sure how to act around you anymore. I don't want to hate you but I'm afraid not to. I've never felt… I've never been unsure of myself before. I don't know what to do to help you."

A tear slipped down her cheek. Her eyelashes were moist and full. Something inside him broke. He didn't want the weight of his guilt anymore. He wanted to be free of it. And the way she was looking at him made him think that maybe the possibility that he could change existed.

"We'll figure out what to do. We should go to Dumbledore. He'll know what to do about your mother."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Dumbledore isn't exactly my favorite person in the world."

"I trust him. And I trust you. For some unknown reason we were thrown into this together. We'll get through it together too. If you trust me. Do you?"

He wanted to. He wanted to have someone that wouldn't let him down. But he didn't know if he could let anyone in just yet.

"Malfoy, it's alright, you can trust me." She moved even closer, so close that he could smell the rose scent of her hair. It was distracting, intoxicating. He watched as another tear slipped down her cheek following the same path as the one that fell before.

"I can't. Not yet," he was so much quieter than he intended to be. Another tear fell from her eyes and then several more. She didn't wipe them away. Without meaning to he felt his hand reach up hesitantly to brush them away from her cheek. He was so surprised by the action that he didn't immediately notice it. She was still looking up at him with her chocolate eyes. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to stop her tears, whatever the cost. "This is the most I can offer you right now."

She nodded her tears flowing freely now. "I understand. If you can't trust me then I'll have to trust you enough for the both of us." She reached up and placed her hand over his where it still rested lightly on her cheek. "The simple fact that we are standing here together and aren't shouting at each other is proof enough to me that we have some hope of coming through this."

He couldn't say anything. It was so completely foreign to him just being in the same room as Hermione, breathing the same air. He felt like he was someone else, someone who could feel things for someone else. It scared him, the possibility that he had a future, a future where he wasn't alone.

She stepped back from him and he felt the void rise up under his heart. "Um… we should probably go see Dumbledore now. That is if it's alright with you. It is your letter after all."

"Uh, sure. If you think that's the best decision." He didn't want to see Dumbledore. He wanted to figure this out alone. He had no idea where to start though. And she was looking at him with such hope that he'd say yes that he couldn't say no. He was too guilty. He'd give in to her. Just this time. Next time though he'd put his foot down. He couldn't have her thinking that she could just get him to agree to anything she suggested.

She smiled a genuine smile, a beautiful smile, when he agreed. Hermione's eyes were still glistening above her flushed cheeks, but he didn't mind. She started gathering up her books and placing them carefully back into her book-bag. He stooped to help her even though he was so unused to being nice to her. They began putting his books back onto his shelf when she suddenly looked over his shoulder towards the window.

"Malfoy, what time is it? It's getting rather dark outside," she sounded surprised as she took her eyes from the window and rested them on his own.

He glanced up to the small clock on the wall behind her, "Quarter of 7."

Her eyes widened in shock. "Oh, no! We're missing dinner! How long have we been here? Somebody is surely looking for us!"

"Relax, Granger. It's not like we missed a class or something. Dinner's only half over. If you want we can hold off telling Dumbledore til after dinner."

"No! I think we should tell Dumbledore immediately! Dinner can wait," quickly she gathered up her things and stood up. "I don't see how the afternoon passed so quickly without us noticing."

He had noticed. He'd felt every intense second of it pass by. But he didn't say anything. Instead he strode to the door and opened it for her. She looked up at him, surprise and admiration visible in her eyes. He felt his chest puff up a bit. When he moved to follow her out of his room he bumped into her from behind. She was frozen in place. He looked over her shoulder in confusion.

The warm feeling in his stomach immediately dissipated. As he stared into Harry Potter's face he felt his blood chill in frozen anger. Slowly, methodically, he put his hand on Granger's shoulder. Potter tensed even more. Draco let his hand slide maliciously down her arm and wrap itself around her hand, entwining her fingers with his own. She turned to him in confusion.

"Come on Hermione, we've got business to take care of."

He started walking down the corridor. She followed him, hand in hand. Potter stared at them as the two made their way past him. He could feel Granger's hand trembling in his own. He glanced down at her face as they walked and saw a tear trickle down her cheek. He felt hollow inside.


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Conflicted Emotions

A/N: This is a rather fast update for me but what can I say? I was inspired! Thanks to all the reviewers that gave such wonderful praise for the last chapter. It's because of the warm response that this chapter came so quickly. I hope you enjoy and continue to review.

Please keep in mind that this is an unedited chapter. If I can get this betaed then I'll post the revised chapter up soon.

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Fifteen: Conflicted Emotions

After Ginny had shooed him away Ron took his time showering and talking Quidditch with Seamus in the Gryffindor Common Room. Just as Ron started wondering what was taking Harry and Ginny so long, Harry burst through the portrait hole. Everyone in the Common Room turned as if sensing the anger pulsating off of Harry's body. Ginny walked through a few seconds later and he could tell by the crackling of her hair that she was just as mad as Harry was. Maybe more so. Neither had showered and were still covered in the dirt from the pitch.

Ron knew better than to call out to Harry or to try to engage him in any kind of conversation. As Harry swept past Ron and the others and into the boys' dormitory Ron caught a whiff of tangy sweat and earth. The door shuddered as Harry slammed it behind him making it clear to everyone that he wanted to be left alone.

Ron immediately turned toward his sister to find out what had happened. Dirt was smeared inelegantly across her forehead and caked in her hair. Her cheeks were pink from the wind while her eyes were vivid and dark. She was angry and volatile beneath the surface and Ron knew to tread carefully. She was the first to speak not caring that every eye in the Common Room was trained carefully on them.

"I'm sick and tired of this stupid fight between the three of you! It's ridiculous! I'm not putting up with it any longer. You and Harry are going to apologize to Hermione. Tonight." Ginny was fierce and reminded Ron of his mum when he got into trouble.

This was not enough however to deter Ron from lashing out at his sister. "I don't see why I should have to apologize to her first! If anything she should apologize to us! She's the one going behind our backs and siding with Malfoy!"

There was a collective gasp as the other students heard the accusation. Ron turned angrily and shouted at the assembled group of Gryffindor, "Shove off and mid your own business! This is a private conversation!"

He wasn't very good at masking his emotions, but he was much more hurt by the fight than anyone realized. It made his stomach turn and his throat felt like lead. But more than anything else, his heart was sore. When he'd found out that she'd been kidnapped he wasn't sure if he wanted to punch a hole in the wall or crawl into a dark corner and die. Ever since the Order had found Hermione at Malfoy Manor, he'd been so unsure of himself. After they brought her to St. Mungo's Ron didn't know how to act around her or what to say. At first he'd been so mad at the Malfoy's that he hadn't been able to speak and seeing her lying in the hospital bed all bandaged up and broken made him seriously consider murder. It was a good thing that Lucius Malfoy had already died because Ron would have killed him.

But since then, everything he knew had changed. Hermione had changed; she had lied to him to protect _Malfoy_. She knew that he hated Malfoy more than anyone else and still she chose to side with him. He thought that he'd known her, apparently he hadn't. And now Ginny, his own sister had turned against him too.

Ron fidgeted where he stood. He was angry, livid even, but more than that he was sad. Things would never be the same, not now. It would take a miracle to fix their broken friendship. It would take more than just hollow apologies to get him to forgive. But he knew that he would never forget. It was over. Any feelings he may have had for Hermione had died along with their friendship.

Ginny must have sensed a change in him because she softened and placed a warm hand on his arm. "Ron, everything will work out, you'll see. I know that Hermione wants to tell you, she just can't right now. It's not her secret to tell, it's Malfoy's."

"All the more reason that she should tell us. It would give us an advantage," He tried sounding hopeful but it was impossible. His anger took over, "He tried to kill her! Don't you remember! It makes no sense that she would support him! I just don't understand!"  
Every eye in the Common Room was on them now despite Ron's earlier warning, this gossip was just too juicy. Ron no longer cared, he had nothing to lose anymore, but Ginny did. "Ron, maybe we should talk about this later, the three of us. You, me, and Harry. Why don't we meet down in the Great Hall for dinner in half and hour. We'll work it all out. You'll see." She smiled up at him before glancing down at her dirt covered hands. "I've got to go get all this dirt off of me. See you in half and hour?"

"Yeah. Half an hour."

Ron was hungry. Very hungry. Dinner might be a good thing even if he was forced to talk more about Hermione. He slowly climbed the stairs to relay the message to Harry. He twisted the door handle and pushed the door open.

"Harry?" He stepped into the room reluctantly and closed the door behind him. "You in here?"

The curtains around Harry's bed were thrown back and Ron saw Harry lying on top of his blankets. He was still dirty from practice. Harry didn't say anything and just lay motionless on the bed.

"Look, Ginny wants the three of us, just you, me, and her to meet for dinner," Ron looked for some kind of response in his friend. There was none. "Half an hour, alright?" Still nothing. Ron knew better than to push it with Harry when he was in one of these moods. "Okay, see you in a half hour."

Ron walked out of the dormitory and back into the Common Room. He sank slowly into one of the fluffy chairs by the fire. It was getting cooler outside. The first match was this weekend against Slytherin. He was excited. He wanted to knock Malfoy off his broom.

He relished in the dream of defeating Malfoy on the pitch for the next half hour. Ginny came down and saw him sitting there. She was clean and her hair was pulled back from her face.

"You ready, Ron? Where's Harry? Did you tell him?"

He stood up quickly and moved to the portrait hole. "Yeah, I told him. He was still cleaning up when I talked to him though, so it might take a little longer for him. We should just go on down. He'll meet us there in a few minutes."

"Alright. Let's go, I'm starving."

They opened the door and stepped out.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Ron and Ginny, Harry had no intention of coming down to dinner and was watching the Marauder's Map carefully to see when they would leave him in peace. He sighed audibly in relief when he saw them leave the Common Room. As they entered the Great Hall with all the other students Harry felt it safe to relax.

He was angry at Ginny for yelling at him and even angrier that she had caught on to his secret. She was subtle about it, more subtle than Hermione had been. But she knew. That was bad. He had no real reason to be mad at Ginny. Not really. He could justify being mad at her for yelling at him but only for a short time. After that he'd have no reason to go on being mad at her. He'd have to tell her or risk her telling Ron and Hermione that he had a secret. He could deal with Hermione thinking that he had a secret because he wasn't on speaking terms with her. The fact that she too was keeping a secret was reason enough not to tell her. But he had no reason not to tell Ron and Ginny.

He didn't want to tell Ron. Ron was already so upset about Hermione that Harry didn't feel like telling him that it was highly likely that he would die soon. Ron had already lost one friend, he couldn't lose another too. He couldn't tell Ron. But Harry knew that Ginny was relentless, more so than Hermione because she was so damn subtle about it.  
He'd have to tell her. Soon. Or else she would tell Ron. Tonight. When the two of them got back from dinner, he'd tell her then. He'd drag her off to the Room of Requirement if he had to. He had to have secrecy. He'd make her promise not to tell Ron or Hermione. She had to agree. She knew how upset Ron was about everything, she'd agree with him to wait to tell Ron at the right time.

It entered his mind that he actually wanted to tell somebody. He needed to tell someone. The secret of the prophecy was eating him up inside. He couldn't take it anymore. Not alone. The burden was too heavy to bear with just one pair of shoulders. Ginny would help him. She would have advice and she would know what to do. She had to. He had no idea what to do by himself.

He glanced back down at the Marauder's Map. Ron and Ginny were still eating. He wondered what they'd said when they realized he had no intention of showing up. It didn't matter anyway. Not after tonight. Tonight everything would be different. He wouldn't be alone.

He studied them in the Great Hall before scanning the rest of the map. It never ceased to amaze him that his father, Sirius, and Lupin had created this. Now all he had left was Lupin. Wormtail betrayed them all. He wondered if Hermione would betray them too. Then he thought that she already had.

That's when he noticed her on the map. She was in a room on the first floor on the far side away from the D.A.D.A. classroom above the Great Hall. He'd never been that far down that corridor. Then he noticed the other person in the room with her. He couldn't believe his own eyes. It was Malfoy.

Harry threw back the curtains and pulled on his boots. He didn't care that he was still filthy from practice. He didn't care that his hair was matted with mud and his clothes were covered in dried dirt. He stormed out of the dormitory and into the Common Room. The few students that had returned from dinner already stared at him as he walked past them. He swung the portrait hole open and slammed it behind him. He went quickly through the corridors and down to the first floor where he knew they would be. He didn't even know why he was going. Obviously it was hopeless. She had made her decision. They had ignored her and yelled at her and drove her right to Malfoy.

He found the door and waited. They had to come out eventually. It was dinner time and he'd never seen Hermione in the Great Hall with the other Gryffindors on the map. She hadn't yet eaten. She had to come out soon.

He heard them, their voices were soft and low. Harry couldn't make out what they were saying. He was surprised at how Malfoy's voice sounded so gentle with Hermione. He heard them move closer to the door, their voices sounded nearer. They were coming out. The door opened slowly. He saw Malfoy's hand push the door open and usher Hermione through before him. She wiped at her eyes before she noticed Harry standing there.

She visibly stiffened and leaned back into Malfoy as she met his eyes. Malfoy noticed her change in demeanor and looked up over her shoulder cautiously. When Malfoy saw him standing there it was obvious to Harry that he was relieved. That emotion was quickly masked and Harry didn't have time to ponder why Malfoy would have felt relief at his presence. Malfoy quickly schooled his features and adopted the sneer that Harry had seen so many times on the other young man's face. He hated him.

Malfoy put his hand on Hermione's shoulder and boldly challenged Harry to defy it. Harry said nothing. What could he say? It was his fault that this had happened. He'd driven Hermione straight into Malfoy's outstretched arms. Harry ignored Malfoy for a moment and looked at Hermione. She watched him wearily as if she was afraid that he would explode. He didn't. He didn't have that right anymore. He knew that now.

Malfoy taunted him again as he slid his hand down Hermione's arm before clasping her hand in his own. It was so strange to see it in front of him. Harry had no idea how to respond. He wanted to say something, to yell and tear them apart. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place anymore. Hermione still watched him. She didn't notice the hand holding her own smaller one. Or if she did notice she ignored it.

"Come on Hermione, we've got business to take care of." Malfoy's voice was firm but gentle with the girl. She snapped her eyes up to him while Harry looked on taking in all the changes. She nodded hesitantly and looked at Harry one last time before Malfoy started walking down the corridor with her. He still held onto her hand. She didn't say anything or pull away from Malfoy; she just let him lead her down the hallway.

Harry continued watching until they were out of sight. He didn't know what to do. He felt guilty. And it was the first time since the start of term that he actually felt he owed Hermione an apology. To see her with Malfoy was more than he could bear. She was one of his best friends even though he didn't treat her like one. They'd all abandoned her. Dejectedly Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor Tower. The only hope he had was that maybe by telling Ginny about the prophecy he'd begin to feel less guilty about the secret. In time he'd tell Ron, once he had a plan and knew what to do. It would work out. It had to. There was no other way. Then, once everything was settled he'd try to regain Hermione's friendship… if she'd take him that is.

* * *

Her hand was trembling in Malfoy's as they turned the corner away from Harry. She was going to cry. She couldn't help it. Every emotion was overwhelming and she couldn't keep them all at bay for much longer. Dumbledore's office was located in one of the towers. She just had to make it a little farther before she broke down. She just had to get out of sight from Harry.

She was shaking as they walked up a staircase at the end of the hallway. Harry was gone from sight. She sobbed and tried to keep it in; she just had to make it a little farther. Malfoy squeezed her hand in reassurance. Why was he being so nice? It didn't make any sense. None of it did. If she stopped to think about everything the emotions became too much. All her self-doubt and fear bubbled to the surface. She couldn't control her emotions any longer and gave in to the tears.

She felt like she'd been crying for months. Hermione sank slowly to the stone stairs, her legs unable to hold her up any longer. Malfoy still kept hold of her hand. She was sobbing, her face stained and hurting from the burning tears. She felt like her insides were being ripped out of her body. She saw Harry's face over and over in her mind and the look of sadness and anger that he wore with such uncertainty. She saw Ron and knew that she was betraying him by keeping Malfoy's secret from him. He wouldn't understand that she had to do this. Ginny's face came into her mind and all the guilt that she had for telling her the secret that wasn't hers to tell. Everything was just too much. The guilt, the sadness, the loneliness was suffocating her. She had no one.

The stairs were cold under her and the chill seeped into her bones. She was trembling from emotional exhaustion. She felt arms wrap around her cautiously, but didn't stop to think about them. Hermione was too wrapped up in her turmoil to hear the soft, gentle whispers in her hair. She was pulled into a tight embrace on the stairs and was engulfed in warmth she hadn't felt before. She was still crying as she pulled fiercely on his robes as if she were afraid she would lose him too.

Slowly Hermione started to escape from the sorrow and began to take notice of her surroundings. There was fine wool clutched tightly in her fist. Her face was pressed against his chest, it was firm and she could feel his heart beating beneath it. Her other arm was wrapped around his waist and was gripping the back of his shirt. She felt his arms around her, one of his hands was on her back rubbing circles over her own robes. The other hand was in her hair playing with the curls. His voice caressed her softly and she couldn't make out his words. They were soothing and slowly she calmed down. Malfoy.

The hand on her back was warm and hesitantly she pulled out of the embrace. They were still sitting on the staircase. No one else was around this part of the castle at night. They were alone. There was a lone window high above them that let the light of the new moon filter down and scatter its rays over them. Shyly she looked up into his face. Malfoy. Draco. His silver hair was brilliant in the moonlight. She thought he'd been so beautiful in the sunlight of the library, but here in the shadow of the moon he was perfect. The light of the moon filtered lazily down and danced in his hair and shadowed his eyes. Every aspect of his features seemed so possessed by unearthly grace and he seemed all at once almost luminescent.

His eyes were like precious metal, cool at first but heated after contact. He moved one hand slowly from her back to her face. It left behind it a void, a cold lonely expanse of skin as he removed it. Soon though she felt a warmth where his hands wiped away her tears as he continued whispering nothingness into her hair. His breath was warm on her cheek. Slowly she calmed and the feelings of loneliness were replaced with a foreign feeling that left her heart racing erratically and her lungs to pump oxygen almost haphazardly.

Malfoy pulled away after a moment of almost awkward silence and placed his hand around her own again. He pulled her to her feet and brushed an errant lock of hair out of her face. His fingertips grazed her cheekbones like a quiet breeze. His voice was soft, so much softer than it had any right to be. When he whispered it was like velvet draped over granite.

"I don't know what to do with you, Granger. You certainly cry more than any person should. How many times is this today?" He chuckled lightly and squeezed her hand.

She smiled up at him in response. Awkwardly she pushed her hair out of her face and looked at him. "Sorry, I can't seem to help crying lately." She shrugged her shoulders. "This just hasn't been a very good day."

He smirked, but it wasn't cold as his smirks typically were. "That's the understatement of the year." His eyes warmed slowly and he gazed down at her in concern. "Are you sure you're alright? When can postpone talking to Dumbledore, if you want."

"No. We need to do this. The sooner the better, right?"

"Alright, but you have to promise me that afterwards we can go get dinner. I'm starving!"

She laughed and he smiled in response. "Sure, whatever you say, Malfoy."

He stiffened slightly and stared intently at her for a moment. When he spoke several seconds later his voice was hesitant but strong. "Why don't you call me Draco. Malfoy doesn't really fit anymore. Besides we probably know each other well enough to be on a first name basis by now anyway."

It wasn't what she had expected but somehow the gesture was more than adequate to relieve some of the pain of lost friendships. He was watching her so closely, so fragile seeming that she felt only warmth for him. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to just be Hermione and for him to just be Draco.

"Alright, Draco."

* * *

A/N: So what did you think? This chapter was so easy to write compared to some of the others. The characters really dictated what would happen in this chapter. At first I meant for this chapter to contain the audience with Dumbledore and Harry's confiding in Ginny. But Hermione really pulled me into her part and as you all know, her feelings are always more complex than anyone realizes at first. She may be the hardest person to write in this story.

Please Review and if you have any major questions feel free to email me, I always respond! Thanks, Taigan.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: The Meeting

A/N:

I've gotten some requests that I start a mailing list to let people know when I update. So, send me an email if you are interested. I promise I won't do anything else with your email except let you know when I update and possibly send out little tid-bits of information about the story.

Also, more importantly, I was notified a few days ago that someone had attempted to plagiarize this story. I just wanted to let everyone now that it's been taken care of, but the person has changed their screen name. I'm going to be mean and give out the person's name so that you all can defend yourselves from plagiarism. Originally her name was Elle Felton 922 or Elle Felton, but she changed it to Danni Felton or Dani Rose Felton at some sites. If you see this person anywhere on your author alert lists or leaving you reviews, be careful. She could attempt to steal your work.

In addition to the bad news, I have good. Professor Mary from Mugglenet and has agreed to beta this story. She is a wonderful writer and I urge you to read her story "Shifting Perspectives." It's wonderful! So, a big thanks to her!

Anyway… here is the next chapter. It picks up at the tail end of Draco and Hermione's conversation on the staircase, but this time is from Draco's point of view. The very beginning of the chapter is overlap of the last.

* * *

Old Moon Fades

Last Chapter:

"_Why don't you call me Draco. Malfoy doesn't really fit anymore. Besides we probably know each other well enough to be on a first name basis by now anyway."_

_It wasn't what she had expected but somehow the gesture was more than adequate to relieve some of the pain of lost friendships. He was watching her so closely, so fragile seeming that she felt only warmth for him. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to just be Hermione and for him to just be Draco. _

"_Alright, Draco."_

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: The Meeting

She laughed and smiled at him. Draco could still hear the tears in her voice as she spoke but the sadness was quickly being replaced with resolution. "Sure, whatever you say, Malfoy."

She still gazed up at him expectantly but he could offer her no smile in return. She'd called him 'Malfoy' though they both knew that he was not. It wasn't that it pained him to hear it spoken, it was more that it was just too sore a topic.

"Why don't you call me Draco. Malfoy doesn't really fit anymore. Besides we probably know each other well enough to be on a first name basis by now anyway."

Even as the words left his mouth he'd regretted them. Thousands of questions flooded his brain while his heart beat frantically in his chest as he awaited her answer. It surprised him how much he wanted her to agree. His nerves were shot as he watched her thinking over his suggestion slowly. He'd noticed she always did that when she thought about something. She didn't jump into things as readily as others. Carefully she processed things before making a decision. He liked that about her. She looked up at him and smiled again. She had a lovely smile. Why had he ever thought her plain?

"Alright, Draco."

It was like music, like poetry to hear his name in her voice, to see her lips wrap delicately around the syllables. It discomfited him that he was so relieved and happy that she'd agreed. It was such a small thing and yet it meant more to him than even he understood at the time.

His happiness at her response startled him and self-doubt began to slowly creep into his body. Where was his dignity? His self respect? Ever since she'd come into his life he'd found that he felt strangely unlike himself. Each moment in her presence made him less and less like the person he'd always been. He wondered if this in its own way might be a form of dishonesty. Could adapting and adjusting to the circumstances be a lie if it meant that he had to change his fundamental character? He hated it. Everything. It used to be that he'd never back down from any type of challenge. Now he was almost too scared to face her and the feelings that had lodged themselves deep within his throat whenever she looked him in the eye.

He was really losing his grip on reality. Three months ago he'd have called anyone crazy if they'd suggested that one day he'd be feeling things for Hermione Granger that he'd never thought he'd feel for anyone. That was one of the problems with thinking he was better than everyone else; it made it impossible to let anyone else in. There was only enough room for one ego.

But all this changed when she smiled. Every self-righteous thought and ego-centric illusion melted away in the warmth of her amber colored eyes. It was impossible to think of anything at all, save for flushed cheeks and petal pink lips. She really did have a lovely smile. He wondered why, in the five previous years that he'd known her, he'd never once noticed it before. He wondered vaguely how he'd made it this far in life without it. No one had ever smiled that way at him before. It was as if he became someone else when she turned her smile on him, a smile filled with all the emotions that had been so lacking in his childhood.

In the moments he spent in her presence he didn't care about his ego or reputation. None of that mattered when he was with her. It was only when he was alone that he questioned it. When left alone with his thoughts, Draco descended into a dark place, a place devoid of feeling and warmth. It was a place where the hopes and dreams that manifested themselves in her presence were destroyed. When he was with her he felt free to experience the kind of emotions he'd always secretly longed for but never dreamt were part of his destiny. But in feeling these emotions he'd allowed himself to be open for other emotions, emotions he didn't wish to feel. Along with hope came doubt. Peace brought turmoil. Love created hate. He quickly shook his head at that thought. He didn't _love_ Granger. It wasn't as if the possibility of love was even there. Hell, he wasn't even sure if they were friends, let alone more than friends. He could count the number of times he'd been with her alone on one hand. That wasn't even enough for seeds of friendship to grow into something more, was it? But he did like her in a platonic sort of way. For the moment anyway. The point was that in allowing himself to experience emotions with her, for her, he'd unintentionally opened the floodgates for other emotions. It was these other emotions that were giving him the hardest time.

He'd never felt real guilt before he'd gotten to know her. He'd never felt any kind of real doubt before, not even about his Quidditch skills despite having lost to Potter so many damn times. But he'd never felt doubt about anything he'd really cared about. Now he worried over what she might say or think of him. He watched what he said to avoid her anger or sadness. He doubted himself. It wasn't a comfortable feeling. It had never mattered to him what a girl really thought of him as a boy. Not until now.

Now anytime she turned her amber eyes on him and smiled that smile he hoped was just for him, he melted inside. Just a bit. Draco wondered briefly if this was a permanent thing and if he would be cursed to walk around with liquid filling his body. Maybe it was just a state he was in when he was around her. Maybe around other people, away from her, he'd be himself again. Merlin, he hoped so! It just wouldn't do for him to be a pansy everyday for the rest of his life.

She was still smiling at him and he realized quickly that he was smiling back. Not a sneer, a smile. When had that happened? That wouldn't do. He dropped the smile in an effort to conceal his feelings. He couldn't make eye contact with her. He knew what he would see. Finally giving in, he looked over at her. Her face had fallen and she looked upset. Not angry, not sad, something in between but not really either. Guilt again washed over him. They'd been getting along so well and he'd ruined it. Draco softened.

"Come on, Hermione," he said gently as he reached over and grasped her hand in his own. "Let's see Dumbledore about this letter and then get some dinner."

Her hand was warm in his and he noticed for the first time just how small her hands really were. Her fingers were delicate and thin and Draco entwined them with his larger ones. He stood slowly, his eyes on their hands, and helped her to stand as well. Her book bag lay on the stair by her feet and Draco casually reached down to grab it. He didn't let go of her hand. He swung the book bag over his shoulder before facing her again.

She watched him thoughtfully, emotions and feelings obscured by the nervous blush that had settled hesitantly on her cheeks. She blushed quite frequently he'd noticed. He never would have pegged Granger as such a ready blusher. It seemed rather incongruent with her personality, or at least the personality she projected to her schoolmates.

Draco had always thought of her as somewhat fearless, a person not given to embarrassment. He'd teased her frequently enough over the years and usually she was unresponsive and chose to ignore his snide comments. Even when he harassed her friends she was quick to step in and prevent a confrontation. He'd called her names and made fun of her appearance and scholarly ability. But he had always been met with nothing from her end. In truth, he'd always admired that indomitable quality about her. No matter how crude or harsh he'd been over the years she had always been so resolute. The only time he'd ever been able to get a rise out of her had been in third year when she'd slapped him. He'd felt an odd sort of victory in that slap; he'd known that in his own way, he'd won that battle. If her blushes now were any indication, Draco realized that he was getting to her again, this time possibly in a very different way.

To see her blush now so easily under his gaze was such a departure from the ordinary. He liked it. He saw it as evidence that maybe she was as unnerved as he was by the changes in their behavior towards each other.

They didn't speak as they ascended the rest of the staircase. The hallways were dramatically silent as they passed under row upon row of windows. The only light that fell on them was the sun's reflection off of the moon. Shadows fell and pooled around their feet. They passed between the windows, alternating between the bright light of the moon and the finite darkness between the clear, glass panes. Neither of them thought to use 'Lumos' to cast light around them, so focused were they on the feel of the other's fingers and the contact of their skin.

Dumbledore's office and quarters were located in one of the towers and it took them some time to reach it. As they approached the entrance Draco paused and tightened his grip on Hermione's hand. She looked up at him for the first time since they'd left the staircase.

"What is it? Have you changed your mind?"

She sounded so small and worried. Was she worried for him, he wondered. Tentatively, she squeezed his hand. He could tell that it took some effort on her part to muster up the courage to do something so bold in her estimation.

"Are you nervous?" he asked. He wasn't nervous himself, but he wanted to give her one final opportunity to back out. He honestly didn't want to approach Dumbledore with this, he much preferred to work things out on his own. What they were about to do was very finalizing. He supposed that maybe he should be nervous. It was a rather large gesture going to Professor Dumbledore and drawing lines in the sand. After tonight's meeting, Draco would have chosen a side. There would be no going back, not after this.

He was brought out of his reverie by her reply.

"No, I'm not really nervous. I guess I should be. But I'm not. Professor Dumbledore will know what to do, he always does," she spoke quickly, watching him carefully for a reaction. When he gave her none in return she dropped her eyes to the floor before speaking slowly, quietly again.

"It helps having you here with me for this," she paused as if unsure whether to continue. She looked back up at him hesitantly before speaking again. "I guess what I'm trying to tell you is 'thank you' for doing this, for telling me. It really means so much that you let me share this with you."

He would have replied, he felt it necessary to reply, and he would have, had he known what to say. She was looking at him hopefully, waiting. Draco knew that he had to say something, anything or risk hurting her feelings. It again surprised him that he was so reluctant to hurt her.

"Really, it's nothing. I-" he was cut short by the sound of grinding stone behind him. He quickly turned around to face the entrance to Dumbledore's office just as the Headmaster stepped out into the hallway. The older wizard immediately spotted the two of them as if he'd already known they were there.

As Dumbledore's eyes fell on them from beneath the crescent glass of his half-moon spectacles, Draco felt Hermione drop his hand from her own. His palm and fingers felt cold in the void left by her small hand. He sensed her nervously fidgeting beside him under Dumbledore's penetrating gaze.

The Headmaster, for his part seemed rather amused, but then he rarely ever seemed otherwise. His voice was light and yet bounced off the stone walls surrounding them.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, I'd rather hoped to be able to speak privately with the pair of you. It seems as if you have just provided me with the opportunity. Please, won't you step into my office?"

He swept his arm toward the entrance, his long purple robes billowing as they caught the cool night air. Hermione stepped through first after giving him a small, reassuring smile. The Headmaster bowed his head slowly to Draco beckoning him inside.

He'd been in Dumbledore's office very few times. After the hearing that summer had been the first, but he hadn't really ever paid close attention to the office before. He marveled now at the amount of rare magical artifacts that were scattered about the room. Portraits lined the walls and Draco recognized many of the witches and wizards from his own studies and readings. They gazed down at him, some smiling, some frowning, others whispering to each other behind their hands.

Dumbledore seated himself behind his desk as Draco and Hermione took up the two arm chairs nestled in front of it. The Headmaster watched them carefully with mirth hidden behind his eyes. Draco found it to be extremely disconcerting.

"So, what is the nature of your visit tonight, Mr. Malfoy?" He leaned forward over his desk, his elbows pressing down into the wooden surface before popping back up and exclaiming, "Pardon me! I seem to have done you both an incredible disservice. Could I offer you a sherbet lemon?"

Draco paused and declined, unused to the Headmaster's affinity for sweets. Hermione shook her head politely in refusal. Dumbledore sighed and pushed the small bowl of candies away from himself.

Draco took the time to mull over how he wanted to broach this subject. When the older wizard had finally deposited the candies on the other side of the desk, Draco began slowly.

"Professor, we seem to have a bit of a problem. I received this letter from my mother," he pulled the letter from his pocket and placed it on the desk within reach of the Headmaster's fingertips. "It seems she has made plans to have Hermione killed as retribution for the events of this summer. Hermione- I mean, we thought it best to approach you with this information in hopes that some solution could be reached."

Hermione had sat quietly throughout his speech her eyes trained on him. He'd felt her watching him, the doubts and resentment toward the Headmaster fading away under her calming gaze.

Dumbledore watched him carefully, reading his facial expressions and mannerisms as he spoke. Draco knew that the older wizard was trying to see how he really felt about this situation, whether he had been coerced into coming here or not. The two shared secrets that he hadn't yet shared with anyone else, things that he'd hoped he could one day forget. Things that he pretended didn't exist. If Granger knew his other secrets, she would no longer trust him and they'd lose the little foundation they had created between them.

He pushed those thoughts away and tried to concentrate. The past didn't matter right now. The only thing that could destroy them was the present. Dumbledore picked up the folded letter from the table and asked if he could read it. Draco nodded slowly.

Draco watched as the color drained from the Headmaster's face as he read through the letter quickly. Once, towards the middle, he'd looked up and studied Draco's face as if searching for the truth in it. Draco waited patiently, nervously. He hated this. He hated every moment of worry, every second of fear. He looked over at Hermione. She was watching the phoenix that stood proudly on its perch behind the Headmaster's desk. He took a moment to study Hermione, as Dumbledore had done to him moments before. She too was nervous, but was trying in vain to mask it. Her left hand was balled into a fist as it lay on her lap. Her other hand twirled around a dark curl of her hair.

Dumbledore's phoenix watched them carefully and ruffled its feathers at them. Draco had always been fond of phoenixes in general, they were proud creatures and no matter what befell them, they always rose again from the ashes. He'd hoped that today would have been a burning day. In many ways Dumbledore's phoenix gave him a hope that he too could rise again, this time from the ashes of his family's ruined reputation and overcome the burden left for him by Lucius. Maybe it was time to believe that he really could change, that maybe Dumbledore really did have faith in his abilities to rise above his father's legacy.

The last time he'd been in this office the phoenix had been quite near the end of its cycle and he'd watched it catch fire and burn itself out. He and Dumbledore had been discussing his childhood, or rather he had been forced to talk about it while the Headmaster listened. But while they talked, the small pile of ashes that had once been the phoenix began to move. By the end of the meeting the bird had been restored. It would have been nice to see that again today. But it wasn't to happen.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and pulled Draco's attention back to the letter. It was now lying in front of him, his mother's handwriting calling to him from the desk. He took his eyes from it resolutely.

Dumbledore's voice was kind and sad as he spoke, all sounds of his former mirth abandoned. Draco was surprised by it.

"Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger, I'm glad that you chose to bring this to my attention so quickly. It gives us more time to plan for your protection,' he looked at Hermione as he spoke. "I think it safe to say that it would not be particularly wise for you to go on any Hogsmeade weekends until this matter is settled."

Hermione nodded her head in agreement, her grip on her leg lessening.

"Because of the nature of this letter and its other contents," he glanced at Draco beneath his spectacles before continuing, "it would not be fortuitous to go to the Ministry with it. So, Ms. Granger, your protection lies in the knowledge that we have gleaned from Mr. Malfoy's thoughtfulness in sharing this letter with us. I will alert the staff to the danger but will not discuss the other information contained in the letter or how we obtained that knowledge."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione was still very quiet as she sat next to him.

Dumbledore's eyes turned to Draco's. His voice was still so sad and quiet as he spoke. "It troubles me, Mr. Malfoy, to read this. But, I'm truly grateful that you came to me with this knowledge. That you sought out Ms. Granger and showed concern for her wellbeing proves to me that you are indeed on the road to redemption. I can not lie and tell you that I hadn't any doubts about your future when you first came to me this summer. In truth, I feared that you would turn on us all. But, I've watched you closely these many weeks and have been relieved to see the changes in your behavior. It pleases me to no end that you have created a friendship with Ms. Granger out of the events of this summer. I hope that you continue down this path and that your friendship grows. Let it be a lesson to us all, that rivalries and hatred can be overcome by the forces of friendship and love."

Draco didn't know what to say. He still wasn't sure what to make of the Headmaster's faith in him. Why, after all the horrible things that he had done, did the two people he thought would care the least about him choose to place their faith in him? Did Dumbledore truly have hope in him? Could he believe it if it were true? For so many years he'd been so self-reliant, he'd never depended on other for anything. In fact, he'd relished in the knowledge that they depended on him. He'd been the "Prince of Slytherin." Now, what was he, an outcast, shunned by the very same people who had depended upon his ability to take care of him. It pleased him that maybe Hermione now depended on him for her protection. It felt good to take care of someone else, even if that person didn't realize it, even if he didn't really understand it either.

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore looked to be slightly unsure of something. What exactly it was, Draco couldn't tell. He appeared as if he wanted to say more, to take the conversation to another level, but he didn't know how to proceed. His voice was extremely hesitant and cautious as he spoke.

"Mr. Malfoy, I am beginning to wonder about something… no, I believe that I am beginning to piece together information that may very well involve you and the incidence of your birth." He again leaned forward over his desk, his eyes piercing and searching as he spoke, "I know that we spoke in detail about this after your hearing but I feel like I still don't have a complete picture of what happened the day of… the day of your father's death."

Draco ignored Hermione's small gasp. The Headmaster however, did not. He turned his gaze to her before speaking.

"I am well aware that you were not completely honest with the Wizengamot at Mr. Malfoy's hearing, Ms. Granger," he paused when Hermione gasped and tried to cut in, but he held his hand up for silence and continued. "While I do not question your motivation, I must say that it was a rather risky move. I understand that you were merely trying to protect Mr. Malfoy, and while that shows loyalty, it could have proven to be fatal. You must have neglected to remember that I quite capable of reading people and noticing if they aren't being completely truthful."

He watched the two of them, Hermione squirming silently in her chair, Draco stoically ready for whatever the Headmaster chose to throw their way. Before continuing again, he turned to Draco and asked, "So, what I would like to know now is what really happened that morning. I want to know everything. Leave no detail out or we may have to resort to using the Pensieve."

The next half and hour or so was spent going over every detail of that morning. Draco did most of the talking, his voice oddly detached. Occasionally Hermione would interject with a comment or addition to something that Draco said. When the discussion finally reached Lucius' death, Draco felt very disconnected from the conversation that he was carrying. Indeed this is how he'd felt the last time he'd spoken at length with Dumbledore, after the incident with Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing following the hearing. He shuddered to remember it and was glad that Dumbledore didn't bring it up now in front of Hermione.

He turned his thoughts back to the speech he was giving.

"I assume I inadvertently used wandless magic to kill him. I'm not really sure how it happened. I didn't concentrate on it or anything. Usually when I've done wandless magic in the past I've had to concentrate very hard on what I wanted to accomplish before I saw any results," he paused in the telling, his mouth dry, not wanting to continue. "Really, is all this necessary? We've gone over all it before."

"I believe it is most certainly necessary, not only for Ms. Granger's safety, but for your own as well. Please continue. What happened as Lucius died?"

Draco was very reluctant to go into this again but saw that he had no choice. He'd come here like Hermione had suggested and now was forced to relive every moment of that morning. He wanted so badly to forget. The last time they'd gone over this he'd left Lucius' declaration out of it. This time, he would have to tell of it.  
"He fell over. It looked like he had a pain in his chest or stomach, I couldn't tell. He told me that Voldemort would know what I had done. He told me that I was to be hunted by the other Death Eaters…"

"What happened next, Mr. Malfoy?"

The last part of his father's speech had troubled him to no end these past few months. He'd tried researching it quietly in the library and had requested books from the Manor. But he'd met with no new knowledge. He often wondered if his father had made it up, like a horrible pet name or something.

"Before he died he said to me, 'The Dark Lord knows everything,'" Draco paused, unsure if he could continue. Dumbledore nodded his head slowly, urging him on. Hermione sat up straighter in her chair and tentatively placed her hand on his own as it rested on the arm of his chair. He spoke clearly and with all the conviction that had been lacking in his speech up til now. "He said to me, 'The Dark Lord knows everything, my Half-Blood Prince.'"

Dumbledore sank down into his chair. He looked so old and haggard. Draco was sure he'd never seen the Headmaster look so worn before. A quick glance at Hermione proved that she was extremely worried by what they saw. She brushed a tear from her face with the hand that wasn't locked with his. As if sensing him, she turned and smiled sadly, hollowly. She squeezed his hand in an attempt at comfort.

Some minutes later Dumbledore spoke again. He was so much quieter than he had been before, and it appeared that he was battling some inner demons for control of his voice.

"I have made too many mistakes this past year in withholding information from people deserving of the truth. While I wish to protect you, my son, from all the evils of the world, I fear that you will be forced to fight your own battles and conquer your own demons," He looked Draco square in the eye and said, "I was made aware of one prophecy that foretells the future of our society. This knowledge led to the deaths of two people very close to my heart and the mental demise of two others equally as brave. Two boys were left without parents," Hermione gasped in recognition and awareness. Draco could see the calculations working in her brain, each thought conveyed on her face. Dumbledore noticed as well and addressed her, "I would assume that Mr. Potter has not made anyone aware of his discovery. I had rather hoped that he would sense the advantages to relaying his knowledge to his friends. Please, Ms. Granger, do not pressure him for the information. He will tell you when he is ready. Of that I am certain. Do not carry anger towards him over this. Do not fault him for my mistakes."

She nodded slowly and sank back into her chair. Her hand was limp in his own now. He waited impatiently for the Headmaster to address him again.

"With this new knowledge that you have brought to me I feel it necessary not to make the mistakes of my past a second time. As much as I wish to protect you all, I know that this is out of my hands. If there was anything that I could do to relieve this situation, know that I would. I have made the mistake of keeping Harry's prophecy a secret much longer than was necessary and for that Sirius Black was killed. I will not make the same mistake again. Mr. Malfoy, there was another prophecy, one that I believe involves you."

Draco let no emotions cross his face, though he was burning up inside from the curiosity of it. And the dread. Whatever it was couldn't be good or else Dumbledore wouldn't seem so reluctant to tell him.

"I'm ready, Professor, for whatever you have to tell me." In truth he'd been doled out so many secrets and lies in the last few months that one other secret wasn't going to faze him.

"What I believe to be your prophecy, Mr. Malfoy, is much more cryptic and vague than Mr. Potter's. I have been mulling it over for the last sixteen years and still I have no more knowledge than I did that first day. But I will tell you and you can make of it what you will," the Headmaster turned to look at Hermione one last time that evening and said, "It is not up to me whether you should stay or go, I believe that decision is up to Mr. Malfoy."

The Headmaster turned to him in question and Hermione looked down at their hands, still resting on the arm of the chair.  
"She can stay."

He wasn't quite sure why he'd allowed that. He had every intention of sending her out packing. But he couldn't. Her hand was too warm, too small. It felt too good in his own. He didn't want to lose that, not yet anyway.

She looked back up at him, her eyes showing all the trust and faith that they had on the staircase. She was so happy that he was willing to share this with her. He didn't want to spoil it.

"If you're ready, Mr. Malfoy," Draco nodded his consent to the Headmaster's question. "I could retrieve my Pensieve but that wouldn't really work for both of you. It may be simpler for me just to tell you."

Again Draco nodded.

Dumbledore told a very similar story to the one he'd told Harry after Sirius' death, though neither Draco nor Hermione were aware of it. He left out the information of Harry's prophecy, just relaying that Trelawney had given it and sank slowly back down into her chair. His voice was calm and quiet as he spoke the words of the prophecy. Draco felt his throat tighten and his heart beat erratically in his chest. He could feel Hermione's pulse hammering equally fast in his hand. The words of the prophecy sunk in slowly, dangerously, as if they were aware that they were unwelcome.

"The fate of our world is divided in two.

What once was old will again be new.

Black and White will become Grey,

The Grey to be reformed like clay.

In the deepest dark a spark is born,

Though it's true his heart is torn.

What will be lost will come again,

Though it will be where it had not been.

As the old moon fades into the new,

The Half-Blood Prince is crowned askew..."

* * *

A/N: If you didn't read the Author's Note at the beginning of the chapter, I urge you to read it now. There is information about a known plagiarist that attempted to steal this story.

I've already started on Ch. 17 and am approximately half-way through. So… maybe it will be ready by Tuesday or Wednesday of this week.

Please leave a review! I really appreciate all the comments I've received from readers so far.


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Old Habits Die Hard

Chapter Seventeen: "Old Habits Die Hard"

Hermione felt all the blood drain away from her face and knew that if she hadn't already been sitting down, she would have fallen.

_Harry really did have a prophecy? That is what had been in the sphere? It hadn't been destroyed?_

She was thinking so quickly, not really listening anymore to what Dumbledore was saying that when she heard him speak of another prophecy her heart felt like it stopped.

_Draco also has a prophecy?_

This day was just getting to be too much. There were too many new revelations, too many heart stopping moments. If her days continued on like this she'd be grey-headed before she turned twenty.

As Dumbledore spoke she felt Draco's hand tighten reflexively in hers. She'd forgotten that she'd reached out earlier and taken his hand in her own. Honestly, Hermione hadn't really realized that she'd done it until she felt his fingers wrap themselves up in her fingers. It was a gesture that she would have done for Harry or Ron if one of them was distressed. That she did the same for Draco was very surprising to her. Draco wasn't Harry and he certainly wasn't Ron. Up until a half hour ago he hadn't even really been Draco… he'd been Malfoy. And Malfoy wasn't her friend. She briefly considered withdrawing her hand but she didn't. Malfoy would never be her friend, he would never hold her hand, or wipe away her tears, or speak soft words into her ear as she cried. Draco had. Draco had done all of those things, things that even the two people she considered to be her best friends in the entire world wouldn't do, and hadn't done for her.

It was so strange to think that even a week ago she wouldn't have pictured herself as she did now. Yet, here she was, sitting in Dumbledore's office with her hand in Draco Malfoy's. Hermione wondered what Dumbledore thought of this change. surely he had noticed their hands by now. He'd probably noticed out in the hallway when he first greeted them. She'd been so embarrassed, mortified even, that the Headmaster had seen her holding his hand. Draco's hand. She felt for a moment like she was betraying her friends, the Order, everything that she stood for as a person, simply by holding his hand. It was silly, she knew, but it hurt just the same. If Harry or Ron had seen them in the hallway, their friendship would be over forever. If it wasn't over already, that is. When Harry had seen them outside Draco's room earlier, the hurt evident on his face, was probably the breaking point. When Draco put his arm around her, claiming her, had more than likely just nailed the coffin shut on their friendship.

Dumbledore addressed her again and she fought for the control to listen. "It is not up to me whether you should stay or go; I believe that decision is up to Mr. Malfoy."

She dropped her eyes down to her lap. It really was no business of hers, hearing Draco's prophecy. But more than anything she wanted to know what it was. Maybe he would take that first step in trusting her enough to let her in.

He spoke softly, his voice firm even though it was quiet. "She can stay."

She looked over at Draco now, all her doubts about his faith in her abolished. He trusted her enough to let her stay, to let her hear the prophecy. That meant more to her than all the gifts in the world. It was a small step, yes, but it was the first step. Maybe it would lead to other steps, larger ones. He watched her carefully, his feelings guarded. She was so happy that it didn't matter that he wasn't smiling back at her.

Dumbledore spoke again, his years showing themselves more than she'd ever noticed before. He looked sad, defeated even, but there was a glimmer of something there. Hope, maybe? The Headmaster spoke of hiring Professor Trelawney and his meeting with her seventeen years before. She wanted to snort in indignation at the thought of his actually hiring her, but kept it to herself. He skipped over the part about Harry's prophecy and she felt disappointment at not having heard it all. By the time he'd gotten to the words of Draco's prophecy her heart was pounding in her chest and there was a roaring in her ears that she felt certain everyone else in the room could hear. Draco again tightened his grip on her hand but she really didn't think he'd noticed what he'd done. Her fingers ached with all the tension, her bones crackling with the invisible weight of fear.

As the words of the prophecy sunk in deeply into her skin she felt heavy, like the weight of all the world's problems had somehow been embedded in her skin, inside her very being. She couldn't begin to imagine how Draco must feel. He was tense, she gathered that much from the death grip he had on her hand. She looked over at him, studied him as she had done before in the library. He looked different somehow, older perhaps. That would make sense, they'd learned enough today to turn any young wizard into an old one.

His eyes were unfocused, dark silver, as they stared blankly out in front of him. His hand that had been so warm just moments before had turned to ice. And yet he sat there in Dumbledore's chair as if it were a throne. The prophecy had called him a Prince; never before had she seen someone who embodied that title so appropriately. Every line of his body was rigid, his face a collection of sharp angles and flat planes. She remembered that before that summer he'd looked so much like Lucius. Now that she knew the truth she realized that he didn't look like the elder Malfoy at all. It wasn't that he looked different; it was that he looked more… like himself. Hermione wondered if there had been magic placed on him as a baby, a glamour or ward of some kind to keep people from suspecting the truth. It was a topic she would have to research later.

She was startled out of her thoughts when Draco stood up abruptly. He didn't let go of her hand as he turned to face Dumbledore. "I think I'll be leaving now, Professor."

Dumbledore stood up from his chair, his arms open, welcoming. His voice was placating as he spoke. "Mr. Malfoy, I understand that this is a difficult…"

Draco interrupted him quickly with an angry wave of his hand.

"Yeah, it's just that I've got homework to do… and as much as I would like to stay and _chat_," he spit out angrily before pulling Hermione to her feet as well, "I've other important matters to attend to. Maybe next week you and I can plan a tea party and invite St. Potter and all the other Gryffindors."

Again Dumbledore spoke, the hope fracturing against Draco's icy demeanor. "Draco, I don't think…"

Draco's voice was ice as he spoke. Each word dripping from his mouth, freezing before it fell to the ground. "We can all sit around exchanging prophecies and swapping recipes," His eyes were harsh and cold, unflinching. "Maybe we can even convince Professor Snape to bake biscuits." He sneered at Dumbledore one last time as he turned to go, pulling Hermione along with him. Dumbledore's voice called them back, however.

Dumbledore came around to the front of his desk, his robes following restlessly behind him. "You know, Mr. Malfoy, that's not a bad idea."

Draco turned back around suddenly, away from the door. As he faced the Headmaster, he didn't even try to mask the contempt in his voice as he replied. "If you think I'm seriously going to have Potter over for tea, you're sadly mistaken, Professor."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. Hermione marveled at his patience with Draco. If it had been anyone else she was sure they'd have lashed out at that level of impertinence. "No, that wasn't what I meant. I just thought that perhaps you and Harry should get together to discuss the implications of your prophecies. It doesn't hurt to look for a second opinion. Who knows, the two of you might work something out," Draco tried to cut in but Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. "I'll arrange it."

Draco didn't even reply as he stormed from the office. Hermione looked back apologetically at the Headmaster and let herself be pulled from the room.

Once they were back out in the hallway he didn't immediately let go of her hand. If anything, he gripped it more tightly. She could feel the rage, the confusion, boiling in his body despite how cold he felt. She could tell that he wanted to yell or throw something in his anger but he didn't. Hermione was again surprised at the level of control he had even with the depth of his anger.

She moved closer to him and with her other hand, the one not holding his, reached up and touched his arm in what she hoped would be seen as a reassuring gesture. As her fingers made contact with his robes and the skin beneath them she felt him tense. He turned toward her slowly, each sharp angle of his face accentuated by the moonlight streaming down from the windows.

His eyes were dark, full of feeling and emotion. She swam in them. She'd meant to say something to him, something supportive, but realized suddenly that she couldn't. Her voice had lodged itself somewhere down around her ankles. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as she watched the moonlight caress his hair and face. He really was much too handsome for his own good. The shadows settled sensually on his features, hollowing out his cheeks and mouth. His hair hung down in his eyes and she had to resist the urge to push it back up on his forehead. He watched her from behind the cold darkness of his eyes.

He sounded irritated when he spoke. It seemed incongruent that his face could be so beautiful and his words could sound so harsh. "It's a good thing we're both prefects because it's after curfew and I'm starving."

She could tell that he was resorting to humor to mask his true feelings about their recent knowledge, but his voice betrayed him. The moonlight betrayed him.

Hermione took a small step closer, her eyes filled with concern. "Don't you want to talk about this? I mean, dinner can wait after all."

He didn't look at her when he spoke again, choosing rather to turn toward the window. Draco's voice was sharp, like a knife. "I'd rather not. Listen, Granger. I know that you think this was all just great fun and that I did you some wonderful service by letting you stay," He turned back to look at her, contempt written plainly on his face. "But, don't flatter yourself. I just didn't want to get a lecture on "Inter-House Unity" from Dumbledore had I made you leave." He turned back to the window away from her gaze. His grip was tight and uncaring on her hand. It hurt.

She pulled her hand out of his, unconsciously rubbing the bruise that was just beginning to mottle her skin, and stepped back involuntarily. Her voice was no more than a whisper when she spoke. "You don't mean that."

Quickly, he spun back towards her, advancing upon her like a predator. "Of course I do. You didn't honestly think I put so much stock into your foolish ideas of trust, did you? It's the one thing I've learned, Granger, never put faith in anyone but yourself. Nobody cares. If they say that they do then they're lying," He took a step closer to her, his anger outlined in the stance of his body. "You're more naïve than I thought if you believed for one minute that I actually wanted you around, that I trusted you."

Hermione felt stung, the words he spoke were biting and her self-conscious nature gave in to them. But instead of sorrow at the knowledge that she'd imagined every moment of growth between them, she felt anger. She did the first thing she thought of, she slapped him hard across the face, her hand leaving an imprint on his cheek.

He looked stunned but only for a second. Then he sneered. "That's good. You're learning."

He looked so cruel in that moment with the sneer plastered on his face. She hadn't seen that look since…

Every memory of that summer came rushing back in that moment and haunted her. His sneer, his eyes so dark and cold, even his stance reminded her of that summer, when he'd tried to kill her. She recoiled from him, from the anger permeating the air around him like a perfume.

She took a step back, lost in the memory of his knife held to her throat, of his body standing over her as he kicked her maliciously in her side. Why had she ever thought that he could change? Why had she ever believed him capable of any type of feeling, of any type of human emotion? He wasn't human. He was a monster. A silver-haired, beautiful monster, more deadly than all the magical creatures in the wizarding world. He'd fooled her so completely, so utterly that she felt stupid for not having seen it before. Harry and Ron had tried to tell her, they'd tried to protect her but she hadn't listened. She'd believed for one moment that Draco Malfoy was capable of love and in that one moment she had been betrayed.

For a second she thought she saw him falter. She thought that the sneer dropped for just one moment. She couldn't trust it anymore, him or her own heart.

She turned and ran.

* * *

"Ginny, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Harry was sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room when Ginny and Ron came back from dinner. Ginny immediately knew that something was amiss. Harry's body was too rigid, too tense. His fingers had a callous grip on the arm of the chair. The younger students sitting about the Common Room glanced wearily at Harry and kept at a distance. He'd been waiting for them to come back from dinner. Ron looked over at her carefully and announced that he was going to bed. Ginny silently thanked him and turned again toward Harry.

"Why didn't you come to dinner?" Ginny bit out before controlling her temper and speaking more carefully. "Is this about Hermione and what I said earlier?"

Harry stood up and walked closer, away from the ears of the younger Gryffindors. "No, it's not. Listen, the Common Room isn't exactly the ideal place for this conversation." He latched onto her elbow and pulled her even further away from the others straining to hear their conversation. "Can we go somewhere more private?"

"Uhh… Sure, I guess." His grip on her arm was nerve-wracking. This entire conversation was nerve-wracking. She had to concentrate to get her voice to sound normal and nonchalant. "Where did you have in mind?"

"The Room of Requirement."

Oh.

Something in her face must have betrayed her shock at Harry's request because when he spoke he was almost pleading. Harry never pleaded.

"Look, I wouldn't ask to go there unless it was really important and that is the only place where we can have privacy."

She nodded her head quickly. "Alright, Harry. If that's where you want to go."

He still had a hold on her elbow as he steered her toward the portrait hole. "You ready?"

She ripped her elbow from the death grip he had on it and squealed, "What now!"

"Yes, now." He looked annoyed and out of patience.

"But, it's almost curfew…" Not that Ginny Weasley had ever been afraid of pushing the curfew laws, it was just the only sane thing could think of at that moment.

Harry stopped and met her eyes with frustration, his annoyance barely controlled as he bit out the words. "I'll bring my invisibility cloak if it makes you feel better."

"Are you sure you want to talk about this _now_?" She couldn't help asking, even if she risked his anger.

"Ginny, I just want to get this over with. I have to tell you now or I'm afraid I won't ever tell anybody." It was the need in his eyes that compelled her to agree. His deep, green eyes that had never looked upon her so intently before. She didn't care that the other students were watching them carefully, their own tasks abandoned for the much more interesting scene playing out by the portrait hole.

"Alright, then. I'm ready whenever you are."

"I'll just get my cloak. See you in a minute." He looked relieved and nervous as he spoke.

He reached up and squeezed her arm in what could be seen as a friendly gesture before running up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. The spot on her arm was warm and tingled as she waited for him to come back down. Ginny fidgeted nervously under the curious gaze of the other Gryffindors. In less than a minute Harry came practically flying down the stairs, ignorant of the watchful eyes of the other students. Ginny ignored them and the whispers that erupted as soon as she and Harry stepped out into the hallway.

The walk toward the Room of Requirement was silent. Neither spoke in Harry's rush to reach their destination. Ginny had absolutely no clue what to expect from the discussion they would apparently be having in just a few minutes' time. There was a knot in her stomach as she pondered the possibilities… would Harry be telling her that he now saw her as more than just his best friend's little sister, maybe that he saw her as the young woman that she had become in the last few years? They were no longer children, any of them. The experiences they'd shared had led to their early induction into the world of adulthood. Maybe, just maybe, Harry had noticed that she had grown up, too.

Ginny took no notice of the fact that they'd arrived at the Room of Requirement. Harry was pacing back and forth in front of the blank expanse of wall, concentrating intently on his purpose. _What purpose would that be_, Ginny wondered. On his third trip in front of the wall, the door appeared. The last time Ginny had been here was at the final D.A. meeting previous year. It brought back hollow memories. Harry held the door open for her as she stepped through. Harry glanced around the corridor before stepping through behind her.

The room was plain, only two chairs and a small table sat in the middle of the expansive space. The sconces on the walls glowed brightly, but otherwise it was very bare. Ginny sighed softly. It was a letdown.

She was annoyed and didn't try to mask it when she spun around and faced Harry. "Alright, Harry. So what is all this about?"

He shut the door soundly behind him and muttered a locking charm before turning around to face her. He met her eyes resolutely, any hint of nervousness gone, replaced with determination and purpose. "You were right. Earlier," he spoke shortly, with clipped words and a tight voice. When he opened his mouth again the traces of annoyance he'd had earlier in the day were back. "Not about Hermione, cause you are very much wrong about that."

She rolled her eyes in response. _Typical_, she thought. She didn't say anything, just crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

"But, you were right about the other thing." Harry's voice was low and dark, the words barely making their way to Ginny's ears. She didn't mask her surprise or confusion, it wasn't her nature.

"What other thing?" She spoke just as quietly, just as intently as Harry had. Her eyes trained on him for any sort of response, verbal or otherwise.

He didn't make eye contact with her and it was several minutes before he spoke again. Instead he walked past her to one of the arm chairs in the center of the room and sank down into it, resting his head in his hands. The words were black and filled with emotions that Ginny couldn't name or attempt to categorize. She was silent as he spoke. "About me knowing what Hermione was going through? Not being able to tell anyone about something. You know, a secret."

She slowly walked over to him and took her place in the chair next to his. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she replied. "What are you saying?"

"You were right," If she felt any sort of victory in his admission she didn't act on it. Instead she reached over and placed her hand on his, urging him to continue. His voice was calm and quiet, reserved as he spoke. "I do have a secret and it's eating me up inside. I have to tell someone. I have to tell you, Ginny." He looked up at her as he spoke her name.

The questions raced through her mind, though she knew they would go unanswered. Why her? Why not Ron? He met her eyes reluctantly.

"What, Harry? What is it?"

"You have to promise not to say a word to anyone, especially not Ron. I'll tell him when the time is right. I can't now, not with everything he is going through about Hermione."

"Of course. I promise I won't say a word." She nodded her head emphatically, attempting to convey her sincerity. When he didn't immediately speak up she squeezed his hand in reassurance.

He met her eyes for a moment before scanning the room. "You know that night, at the Ministry? The night that Sirius… the night that we were attacked in the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yes. The bell-jars and the brains. I remember." Ginny leaned forward in her chair as she listened carefully to Harry's hushed voice.

"There was one of those spheres with my name on it. My name and Voldemort's." He still wouldn't meet her eyes and his gaze settled on the door to the corridor.

Ginny's heart rate was up and pounding in her chest. "Yeah, it broke. Didn't it? I mean, nobody knew what it was."

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, his voice still quiet and simmering. "Yeah, it broke. But, Dumbledore knew. Dumbledore has known since before I was born."

Ginny nearly fell out of her seat with amazement. "You're not serious! You mean he knew this entire time and never said anything!" The grip she had on his hand was slippery with tension and nerves.

Harry's gaze dropped to the ground and he didn't answer for a moment. When he spoke again his voice was resolute, unflinching. "He told me that night once we all got back to Hogwarts. Or rather, he showed me in his Pensieve."

"Well, go on!"

Harry stood up from his chair quickly and began pacing in front of her. He ran a hand through his already untidy hair and gazed at her nervously. "It was a prophecy concerning me and Voldemort. Well, it could have been either Neville or me, but Voldemort chose me instead. Ahh! I'm not making any sense am I?"

Ginny scooted to the edge of her seat and faced him. She desperately wanted to know what this prophecy was. "No, not really. Why don't you start from the beginning."

In the next half hour Harry detailed for Ginny exactly what Dumbledore had told him. Ginny listened carefully, thoughtfully, waiting for him to finish before speaking. The news of the prophecy was a shock to say the least and she didn't exactly know what to make of it. Harry looked equally confused and angry too. Ginny briefly wished that it was Hermione that Harry confided in and not herself. Hermione would have known instantly what to do and what to say to relieve Harry's worries. Ginny was in over her head.

"So basically, either he has to kill you or you have to kill him. Is that right?" Ginny's voice was whisper-quiet and her hands were clammy and cold. She turned to face Harry, urging him to return her gaze.

He had moved back to his chair after telling her of the prophecy and now he dropped his head into his hands. His voice was muffled as it traveled up through his hair and robes to her ears, "That's what I get out of it anyway. I'll either be killed or become a murderer… either way it's a lose-lose situation."

Ginny reached over in sympathy and patted him on the back. His robes were scratchy and rough under her fingers and she could feel the heat of him permeating through the woolen fabric. She tried to sound reassuring when she spoke, "We'll come up with something Harry, I'm sure of it. It doesn't have to be like this. There has got to be some other way."

"I don't know, Gin… I mean it's not like I wasn't expecting something like this to happen one day anyway. A part of me always knew that Voldemort might really kill me."

She sucked in a breath at the mention of his name. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground here. She was Harry's only confidante at the moment and she wanted him to trust her. "Harry, I have complete faith in you. You are a powerful wizard, more powerful than anyone I've ever known. If anyone can defeat Volde- Voldemort, it's you, Harry.

Harry picked his head up from his hands and looked at, really looked at her for the first time that evening. She could feel it in her skin. His gaze was penetrating and deep. She wondered if this was the first time that he ever really "saw" her. It was disconcerting.

"Thanks, Gin. For everything. I mean it," he stood up slowly and she did the same. He glanced down at his watch and grimaced. "It's past curfew. We'd better get back soon."

"Already?" The word slipped out unintentionally and Ginny suppressed a groan of embarrassment. She glanced quickly over at Harry to see if he'd noticed. He was just smiling at her fondly.

"We'll have to share my cloak. Don't want to chance Filch catching us." Harry scooped up the cloak from where it had been resting on the floor and held it out.

Ginny didn't say anything and just stepped up close to him as he swept the cloak around them. She could feel him even though they weren't touching. He was warm and alive. He didn't seem to be as unsettled by their proximity as she was. He had to crouch down to stay on the level with her and keep their feet from poking out beneath the hem of the cloak.

The door creaked open as they stepped out into the hallway. Ginny couldn't see anyone in the corridor and breathed a sigh of relief. They made their way silently through the 7th floor corridor back to Gryffindor tower. The moon was bright and light poured through the windows casting shadows that played on the floor and walls around them.

They were almost to the portrait hole when Harry stiffened beside her. He seemed to be having a hard time holding the cloak over them and so he stopped them. Silently he wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her closer. He covered her mouth with his hand and pulled her head into his chest as he backed them up against the wall. That's when Ginny heard it; someone was coming down the hallway. They weren't even bothering to be quiet.

Her head was pressed up against Harry's chest and she could hear his heart beating frantically beneath it. His hand was still clamped over her mouth and she couldn't see who was running down the hallway. She felt Harry raise up from the wall and take a step toward the person. He dropped his hand from her mouth and grabbed her arm instead. She looked up dazed as Harry pulled the cloak from them. She still couldn't see who it was.

Harry's voice was thick and heavy as it called out across the corridor.

"Hermione!"


	19. Chapter Eighteen: The Dark Mark

A/N: Sorry about the delay in posting... I know I've been saying that a lot lately. My excuses are the same... school work and reports. As a consulation, this chapter is approximately 2,000+ words longer than normal. Thanks to Professor Mary for beta-ing this so quickly and to all the reviewers and emailers who kept me working on this chapter in some way or another for the past weeks.

Email me if you want on the mailing list, or visit my Live Journal and sign up there. The link is at the bottom. Enjoy!

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Eighteen: The Dark Mark

They stood together, alone under a cover of trees in the forest. It was night and the moon hung low in the sky, waiting for them. It was time. Lucius was dressed all in black and the light of the moon seeped into his hair. It wouldn't glow, like Draco's did in the moonlight. That is what happens when the darkness stays too long, it isn't able to go away. Lucius had ceased to glow. Instead he absorbed the darkness, taking it in, while it still bounced off of Draco. As he glanced at Lucius, he realized was nervous.

"Don't worry, Draco. It will only sting for a moment." Lucius gazed down at his son with appreciation evident in his eyes. He stood several feet away watching him almost indifferently before speaking again. "Remember, no matter what happens you must not say anything. Show no weakness. You are a Malfoy. You must prove to the world tonight exactly what that means."

Draco felt a swell of pride fill his chest. He held his head higher. More than anything he wanted to please his father, more than anything he wanted his father's respect. Tonight he would have it. "Yes, Father. I will make our family proud."

Lucius nodded his head at Draco's reply. "Good. I expected nothing less from you." It was a moment before he spoke again, hesitantly, as if he were afraid. Wearily he watched Draco, his eyes obscured by shadow and darkness. "Before we depart, I must ask you, are you sure you are ready for this? It is a commitment not to be taken lightly. Once this is finished it can not be undone."

"I'm ready." Draco's voice was clearer than he'd expected it to be. In truth he was scared of what would happen. But his father wanted it, and so he wanted it more than anything. Maybe tonight his father would finally realize just how far Draco was willing to go for his approval. Maybe Draco would realize this, too.

Lucius turned away from his son, his body and face slipping further into the darkness. Draco couldn't even make out his features now. His voice though was firm and quiet. "I've done my best to keep you from this for as long as possible. In truth, it was my wish that this wait until after your graduation. But the Dark Lord wants you now, and even I am powerless to stop him."

Draco felt his pulse quicken and the temperature drop around him. The invisible wind whipped about his cloak as they stood outside under the moonlight and the canopy of trees. He wouldn't hesitate. Not tonight. Not when his future was at stake. He felt it creeping up to meet him. It was tentative and reluctant to join with him, the future. The moon still sat waiting for him, bright and bold in the sky.

The mist swirled around his feet, obscuring his surroundings. He could hear his father's voice, he could hear the whisper of the trees above them, but he couldn't see them. The darkness had descended upon him almost completely now. His father's voice called him away from the hesitant feeling that he wasn't ready. "Come, my son. It is time to meet your destiny."

* * *

Draco felt the darkness creeping up on him. He could feel it slipping into the cracks of his soul. He was powerless to stop it. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. His cloak was warm, too warm, and it scratched harshly against his skin. Someone pulled it from his shoulders and he stood in the center of the room, his chest bare and naked in the dark. He couldn't move though, he had to stay perfectly still. Silent.

The room around him was hushed. The din had quieted and Draco felt every eye in the room trained on him. It was a moment that he should have felt proud in. He should have felt his destiny, like his father had said. But he didn't. He felt hollow, empty. Something wasn't right. Things weren't as they should be… he shivered.

He saw Professor Snape amongst the crowd assembled in the room. He hung toward the back, watching from beneath a hooded cloak. There were others in attendance as well. He saw Crabbe and Goyle, and their fathers. His friends seemed as nervous as he felt. He prayed that he wasn't showing his hesitation. He had to do this; he had to prove to his father that he was ready. He saw countless others that he would soon count as brothers. They would all be in this together, till the end. Till the death.

Snape was still watching him. He felt it warm and bearable on his skin. The others made him feel cold, their darkness seeping out to claim him as well. But not Snape. Snape's gaze was warm. It was different. His father didn't even look upon him that warmly. He shivered. But still Snape watched him. Draco turned to meet his gaze and what he saw surprised him. _What was it?_ Pride? No. Happiness? No. _Pity?_ Did Snape really watch him in pity? _Or was it sorrow?_ It hurt to think about.

Snape started to move toward him, pushing past the others standing tall watching him. Again Draco felt that something was off. This wasn't how it had been. Something was different, though he couldn't place it. His brain struggled to comprehend what was going on. Snape continued his progression, ever closer. Draco was getting warmer and warmer with each step that Snape took toward him. _Why weren't the others stopping him?_ He shouldn't be moving. Everyone was supposed to stand perfectly still during the induction ceremony. _So, why the bloody hell was Snape moving?_

Draco felt, rather than saw, the man in front of him. There was a rush of cold, a chill that creeped up his spine and nestled in his throat. The red eyes and harsh voice. His skin started to crawl. It was time and Draco felt he should be prepared for it. He should pay attention. He couldn't though, not even when the pain stabbed up his arm like fire. Not even when the Dark Lord spoke the words that made him one of his followers.

Instead, Draco couldn't take his eyes off of his Potions Professor. Snape had moved closer and stood just an arm's reach away. He felt the pain shoot through his arm. It was an unbearable pain and he wanted to collapse under it. He couldn't though, not with his father watching him, waiting for him to stumble. He couldn't look down at his arm. Draco knew what was there now. The Dark Mark. He'd done it. He should feel pleased. He should feel proud. He didn't though and it scared him. He didn't remember feeling this way… Where was Lucius? _Where was his father?_ He felt alone… But then he saw Snape. The Potions Master was still watching him. There was still pity in his eyes. And Sorrow. Everyone else in the room had disappeared. It was only him and Snape. _Alone._

This was wrong. _Something was wrong._ He still couldn't place it. Everything was becoming foggy. Snape was trying to say something to him. He couldn't make it out. The darkness was descending rapidly upon him. Snape was screaming now, silently. There was a roar in his ears that made every sound muffled. He felt like he was drowning. Draco tried to latch onto the words; he thought to save himself by holding onto to Snape. _Where was his father?_ Just as he fell into the harsh cold of the darkness he made out the words on Snape's lips.

"WAKE UP!"

* * *

He shot up in bed, sweat clinging to his body and dripping down his chest. It had been a dream. Only a dream. But the pain was real. He felt it still, clinging to his arm with icy skeletal fingers. Draco shook his head to clear the last vestiges of the nightmare. No, it wasn't a nightmare. It was a memory. His worst memory.

The moon was still out, though not for long. The sun had begun its slow creep into the sky. Just then it was cresting over the horizon. Draco watched it from the depths of his bed through the window across the room. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep, he pushed the thick blankets from his body. As his feet hit the cold floor he remembered the chilled night of that summer and how the wind had felt upon his face.

It was not a pleasant memory, the night of his induction ceremony. He'd dreamed of it frequently since he'd arrived at Hogwarts that summer. Every night it was the same. Every night he dreamt of his father's one moment of approval, his own attempt to prove his worth. It didn't matter that he had been branded. It didn't matter that he ended up failing Lucius. Deep down, Draco knew that he'd never please his father… he'd never live up to the expectations. He had tried though. He'd been found wanting.

It still hurt, like a dull ache, when he thought of it. His inability to gain his father's approval was like a vice grip on his heart. In some ways he still sought to please him, though he knew now that it was impossible. His father was dead. He'd killed him.

It didn't matter to Draco that Lucius wasn't his true father. He was the only father that he'd ever known. In some twisted way Draco felt he had even more pressure on him to fulfill Lucius' expectations of him now that he knew the truth. Somehow he felt that he had to earn his place as the Malfoy heir, that he had to prove his worth. At this moment Draco didn't feel that he'd earned that right or the title. If he couldn't fulfill the obligations of service to the Dark Lord, then he could certainly restore the family honor and prestige. If that was the one thing he could accomplish he would do his best to make sure that it happened.

The sweat still clung to his body and was starting to chill in the crisp air of approaching autumn. He needed a shower. Each step across the cold stone floor was a painful memory. By the time he made it to his bathroom, he felt suffocated by the onslaught.

Draco turned on the tap and stood naked under the water. He wanted to drown in it. He wanted the water to wash away his memories and his pain. It was just too much to take. He grabbed the soap and rubbed it vigorously over his forearm in an attempt to wash the mark away. He couldn't even look at it, it was too horrible. The only purpose it served now was as a painful reminder of his own inability to fulfill his obligations. He'd made a promise, a promise that he wasn't sure he regretted, to the Dark Lord, and he'd reneged on his part of the bargain. He'd promised to serve and to fight for his family's beliefs and the beliefs of his peers. At the first opportunity to prove his faithfulness, he'd cowered and ultimately failed. And in failing, Lucius had rejected him. Maybe he really was worthless…

It was a simple request his father had made of him. Kill the Mudblood. Kill the best friend of his father's enemy, his own enemy. It should have been easy. It should have gone exactly as planned. He should have slit her throat when he had the chance. But he hadn't. He had been physically unable to follow through with the command. And now he was an outcast. He was certain that the people he'd once called his friends hated him. He didn't blame them; if he were in their position, he'd feel betrayed, too. It wasn't just their entire way of life that he'd rejected, it was their friendship as well.

Since the beginning of the term he'd been expecting some kind of threat or attack, but nothing had happened so far. He had been so certain that once school started they would have at least tried to rough him up a bit. But they hadn't. That didn't mean that it wasn't coming. Draco was quick to realize that it probably meant that they were planning something big for him. They'd been quiet for over a month now, and he felt that his time was running out. If they planned on exacting revenge it would happen soon. It didn't matter that he was the most politically powerful person at Hogwarts, next to Dumbledore, of course, if they wanted their revenge they'd get it.

He didn't have friends anymore. He didn't have any family, not really. His father had been everything to him and he'd killed him. He hadn't meant to. Draco had loved his father. He loved him still. Or at least he thought he did. _Ahh!_ It was so confusing! Draco recognized that his father was twisted and warped. He knew that now. But that didn't change years of conditioning and the admiration that he'd held for his father. He'd spent his whole life idolizing him, wanting to be just like him. And now, in light of everything that had happened, he wasn't sure that he wanted that life. He wasn't sure that he wanted the life that his father had planned for him.

He guessed he had Granger to thank for that. She was the catalyst that caused all this upheaval. He didn't know whether to consider it her fault or to think of her as his salvation. Thoughts of Hermione made him remember their last encounter. Dumbledore's office. The prophecy. The argument in the hallway… His face still stung from the slap she'd given him, though that was probably more from pride than actual injury.

But the memory that crashed down around him, sending him to his knees in the shower, was of her face in the moments after that slap and his comment to her. He'd seen her fear. He'd seen her own memories flash across her face, the very memories he was now trying so hard to forget. She ceased to see him as a human in that moment and remembered him as the monster that he was. And the saddest part was that she was right. He was a monster. He had the mark on his arm to prove it. His own scar. Would he ever be able to escape his father's legacy?

It was probably too late to make amends, and it surprised him that he wanted to. The realization that he cared more about her opinion than he'd ever cared what his father thought startled him into awareness. He had to do something. He had to make her see that he wasn't a monster, or maybe that he was but that he didn't want to be any longer. He prayed it wasn't too late. He had to make her see… It didn't matter what it took. He'd empty his own coffers to prove it to her if he had to. He had to prove it to himself as well.

Draco turned the tap off and dried quickly. As he dressed he made a mental list of the things that he'd need. A quick glance out the window proved that it was still very early. No one would be awake yet. He had time to run to the Owlery and send off for phase one of his plan and have it in place before lunchtime. He'd have her back by dinner… If she forgave him, that is…

* * *

Hermione woke up slowly, clinging resolutely to the fleeting images of her dream. It had been a good dream, a quiet one, and she longed for the peace she'd felt in it. In the dream they'd been in the library, sitting silently at what she now considered to be "their" table, not that they'd sat there together frequently. It had been a good memory, one that she thought of fondly up until recently… until last night.

She dreamed of the first time she'd ever really looked at him, the first time she'd looked at him and felt that she was actually "seeing" him, the real him. The sunlight had poured over his body in waves from the windows and flooded him with warmth. The sun had seemed so bright that morning and yet he'd seemed brighter still. He'd almost been too beautiful to look at, with every inch of his skin pulsating in the light. He'd practically radiated, like he was his own source of energy.

Now, however, she felt like a fool. She'd been tricked into trusting him because of the thought that nothing that beautiful could possibly shroud such a monstrous soul. She knew better now. She knew not to let her guard down again so easily around him. No one so beautiful in the sunlight could ever be anything but gruesome in the dark. And last night was no exception. He may have projected an aura of almost god-like beauty but she'd seen through that painted exterior into his dark soul. It was withering. Twisted and black, it coiled like a snake around his heart, beginning a feast upon his soul, and she wanted no part of it.

Betrayal sank in, filling the hollow void, but Hermione knew that she was the one ultimately at fault. She'd been the one to let the evil into her life. She'd defended him to her friends when they'd tried to tell her the truth that her eyes were blind to see. She'd defended him in court at the hearing. He'd tried to murder her and had very nearly accomplished killing her parents; yet still she'd defended him. She was sickened by her own behavior, abhorred by it even. But she tucked the memory of Draco that morning in the library away into a safe place inside her heart.

Her mind may have already made a distinction between Draco and Malfoy, but her heart hadn't. She wondered fleetingly if it ever would…

She came fully awake slowly and the first thing she felt was her eyes. They were sore and swollen while her throat ached. From the crying. Gradually she opened her eyes and took in the scene in front of her.

She was still in the Common Room. Ron was seated across from her, his long limbs stretched out over the arms of the chair. He looked to be supremely uncomfortable even in sleep with his arms and legs carelessly hanging off both ends of the chair like a worn-out accordion. The fire was still burning quietly and the light from the flames danced in Ron's coppery hair.

Ginny and Harry were where she'd last seen them, on the couch in a much more comfortable position. Harry was half-sitting, half-leaning against the arm of the couch, while Ginny had curled up beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. Hermione smiled to see Harry's arm wrapped protectively around Ginny's shoulder. She wondered if they'd fallen asleep that way or had come into that position during the night. She vowed to tease Ginny about it later.

All in all, Hermione felt that a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders only to have another one dropped down in its place. She'd reconciled with Harry and Ron the night before. Mutual disdain for Malfoy was a powerful motivator and it had only taken a few tears for Ron to gather her up in his arms and murmur his apologies into her hair. The Common Room had been full when she'd arrived outside the portrait hole. Harry had seen her in the corridor and called out to her. She'd barely heard him through her pain, but his hands on her shoulder were enough to warm her heart.

Ginny had slipped into the Common Room and shooed everyone to bed. It was past curfew after all. By the time that she and Harry ventured inside, everyone had gone up to bed and the Common Room was again quiet. Harry held onto her hand and sat down next to her on the couch while Ginny perched on her other side. She'd told them her story. Malfoy had lied. He'd tricked her. She didn't say that he'd broken her heart as well, that much was obvious and remained unspoken.

She hadn't cried then and hadn't cried on her way to the Common Room either. It was only when Harry had brought Ron down from the boys' dormitory that she'd broken down. Seeing Ron reluctantly descend the staircase, in his too small, well-worn pajamas, had been the breaking point. He didn't notice her until he'd come fully into the Common Room, but when he saw the tears in her eyes all feelings of anger and jealousy melted away. He'd closed the distance between them quickly and gathered her into his arms. She'd cried hard, harder than she had in a long time, but it was comforting to feel Ron's body around hers. She could smell the scent of his soap on his skin and clothing. It was a familiar smell, a calming smell.

The four of them had talked into the night like they hadn't spent the last month and a half not speaking. But they were all painfully aware of the distance that month had put between them. Hermione prayed that she'd be able to regain the ground she'd lost. More than anything she wanted her friends back. Looking around her now, seeing their support of her even in sleep was a comfort.

It was still early and Hermione wanted to wash the desolate feeling off of her body. A nice long bath would help to soothe away the pain from hours spent crying. As she stood to go up to the girls' bathroom, she felt the heavy weight of a robe around her shoulders. The worn fabric and faded color proved who it belonged to and the gesture warmed her heart more than any she could have received. Gathering it up in her arms, she quietly moved to Ron's sleeping form. Delicately she draped his robe over him, trying hard not to disturb him.

Hermione tiptoed away from her friends and was almost at the staircase when she heard a rustling behind her. She turned around slowly to see Ron standing up, the robe held loosely in front of him. He met her gaze slowly and took a step closer. His voice was like quiet sandpaper when he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said quietly. "I hope that one day you can forgive me. It hurts to see you so upset. To think that I may have caused a part of that… I just hope that you can forgive me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Oh, Ron," she cried as she walked the few feet back to him. She pulled him into a hug and whispered. "Of course I forgive you. You're one of my best friends and I can't imagine the two of us ever fighting over something irreconcilable. In truth, I was hoping that you would forgive me."

"Consider it done." He pulled back from the hug and looked down at her. "If you want, I'll give the slimy git a good beating."

"Thanks Ron, but I don't want you to lose any House points over this. Why don't we just saving the beating for Quidditch?" she teased. In all actuality, Hermione wasn't sure that House Points was the only reason she was asking Ron not to lash out at Malfoy.

Ron smiled in response. "Anything you say."

* * *

Draco arrived early to breakfast in the Great Hall, eager to see the first steps of his plan commence. He seated himself at the end of the Slytherin table away from the others. From his vantage point he could clearly spot Gryffindor table and the place that Hermione normally occupied. Very few students were seated but it was only a matter of time before the Great Hall would be filled. He could wait. If he was anything, he was patient.

Draco glanced up as Theodore Nott sauntered into the room, followed by Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson. Since Draco's social demise, Nott had eagerly taken his place as the unofficial leader of Slytherin house. Draco's friends had been entirely too willing to drop him at the first sign of trouble in favor of the more upward moving young man. Nott's family had long been supporters of the Dark Lord but after his initial fall, Nott Senior had avoided Azkaban in much the same manner that Draco's father had.

It irked Draco immeasurably to think his place had been usurped by the stringy boy, and it bothered him even more that he'd managed to steal his friends away as well. As much as he hated to admit it, he rather missed Crabbe and Goyle's companionship. For all their stupidity and gorilla-like qualities, they did have their redeemable moments. He'd known them practically from birth and had considered them to be brothers up until the start of school. Their betrayal felt like a stab in the back, but he'd never admit that out loud.

Just then, the little entourage swept past him, making their way toward the front of the table. Nott attempted a malicious sneer in his direction but it failed to have the effect that Draco knew his own sneer had on his peers. That warmed him a tiny bit. Nott may have effectively taken his place but he'd never be much more than an empty replacement. Crabbe and Goyle shuffled past, trying to appear ignorant of his presence, but only succeeding in looking rather constipated. Pansy, however, couldn't mask the feelings she had upon seeing him and covered them with an icy glare in the other direction.

Draco shrugged off their encounter and watched the door covertly in hopes of spotting Hermione just as she walked into the Great Hall. After minutes on end of restlessly picking at his breakfast, he was just about to give up on her coming down. When she suddenly appeared in the doorway, flanked by Potter and Weasley, Draco felt all the breath leave his body. She was smiling and gazing up at Potter, before turning and laughing at something the damned Weasel said into her ear.

It appeared that the two miserable gits had somehow redeemed themselves, no doubt on account of his own stupidity and rash mouth the night before. Once again, Draco cursed his insufferable tongue for speaking without the consent of his brain. Maybe once the owls came she'd forgive him. He prayed that she would. It hurt to see that smile on her face, the one he'd secretly hoped was his alone, as she talked with the other boys.

They group made their way to the Gryffindor table and Hermione sat down next to Potter while the Weasel King sat across from them. Just then, the younger Weasley, _Ginny was it?_, came in and sat down next to her brother. From where he sat, Draco could clearly see Hermione's face and consequently Potter's as well. He made no attempt to disguise his careful observation, and earned a disdainful look from Pansy from the other end of the table. He paid no attention.

Like clockwork the owls arrived with the morning post. Draco watched the cloud of feathers for the owls he'd sent off for that very morning. At first no one noticed or said anything, but soon the entire Hall had trained their vision on the Gryffindor table.

The first owl deposited a rather ostentatious bouquet of flowers directly in front of Hermione's plate. Her response was to bring out her wand and vanish them with a quick flick of her wrist. Weasley snarled and looked ready to fight to the death, but his sister quickly latched onto his arm and dragged him back down to his seat. Hermione determinedly did not meet his eyes, choosing instead to tuck into her plate with all the appetite of a professional Quidditch player. Potter alone was brave enough to stare him down from across the room in silent warning. Draco shrugged in response and continued watching.

The second owl flew over head, dropping yet another bouquet of flowers in front of Hermione's plate. The same process repeated itself, and Hermione again vanished the flowers. By this time nearly everyone in the Hall had discovered the escalating scene and whispers broke out at all the tables. He felt a great number of eyes shift to look upon him in wonder and amazement. Nobody thought he'd ever do something like this. They were in for a big surprise…

The Weasel practically jumped from his seat by the time the third and fourth owls dropped their packages. It took both his sister and Potter to keep him in his seat. Hermione still refused to look at him. Eventually there was a steady rain of flowers and chocolates from a growing swarm of magical creatures flying above the table.

Draco had sent off urgent requests to both Honeydukes and the Hogsmeade florist to spare no expense and to immediately send the most lavish of apology presents to a Ms. Hermione Granger at Hogwarts. He'd received replies within a half hour detailing the order and assuring prompt arrival with that morning's breakfast.

And they hadn't disappointed. Draco felt like gloating even though Hermione was quickly getting rid of the presents. At once, he felt an itch on the side of his face and knew that Pansy was watching him carefully from down the table. He turned to sneer at her and his other former friends and was surprised to see the sad look on Pansy's usually carefully controlled face. The moment she noticed him looking back, she whipped her head around and spoke quietly to Nott. Nott vigilantly stared back at him and whispered conspiratorially with Crabbe and Goyle. Both boys hesitantly glanced his way before embarrassingly returning to their food. Draco would have sworn that they looked nervous about something…

When he looked back at the Gryffindor table he realized, much to his chagrin that she'd left, as had her three damnable friends. Growling, he rose from the table and stomped to his first class of the day.

* * *

The rest of the week continued in much the same way, and much to Draco's growing dismay he was slowly beginning to realize that his blatant disregard for the astronomical expense of apology presents at every meal time was having absolutely none of the desired effect he'd hoped for. In fact, it appeared that it was only making it worse. She still refused to speak to him in class or in the hallways. He'd started sending more presents so that each time she entered a classroom for that day's lesson she was greeted with a large bouquet of flowers and an overflowing basket of cakes and candies. She vanished each present with growing ease and it appeared that she viewed this daily occurrence as simply practice for charms.

It was beginning to be bloody annoying…

By the time Saturday rolled around, Draco had begun to look for other ways of expressing his request for forgiveness. Indeed the longer this went on, the more money he spent and the more ostentatious the gifts became. Anywhere he went in the school he felt the watchful eyes of the other students studying him and gossiping about what he could have possibly done to warrant such an extravagant display. That very morning, as he was mentally preparing for the Quidditch opener against Gryffindor, he'd been assailed with yet another reminder of his inability to exact forgiveness.

The Daily Prophet had a front page spread dedicated to his attempts at wooing Hermione back. Above the article were several pictures of the continual barrage of owls delivering flowers to her, and a large photograph of himself watching the spectacle. News quickly spread about the article and Draco watched as Hermione groaned upon seeing it. The article was the typical rumor filled, gossip column that the Daily Prophet was known for. It contained a brief reminder of the scandal of that summer and speculated the cause of the argument in arguably the most ludicrous fashion. Who knew what kind of repercussions this kind of exposure could have not only on his social standing but on his and Hermione's well-being…

In all actuality, Draco was beginning to worry that she would never forgive him for the harsh words he'd spoken outside Dumbledore's office. He still wasn't even quite sure why he'd said them. But, he didn't have time to dwell on that since he had to go get ready for the match.

He hadn't gone to a single Slytherin practice since the start of school but he'd practiced on his own in the evenings when the pitch was free. Nobody seemed to mind that he preferred solitary practices to the possible threat of being alone with the entire Slytherin Quidditch team. Professor Snape never said anything. Either he hadn't noticed or realized the danger of his being alone with Nott and his gang.

Draco wasn't really worried about the possible threat to his health at the match. The entire school would be in attendance, as would the Headmaster and the entire staff. To try anything at the match would be ridiculously risky and Draco didn't really give credit to Nott for his subtlety. Regardless, Draco vowed to himself that he would remain on alert, for certainly the bulk of the threat would come from the Gryffindor team who would be looking to exact revenge for the offense of stealing their golden girl away, even if it was only for a short time.

Draco stepped out onto the pitch, broom in hand. The wind was high and he recognized the need to adjust his flying to allow for wind resistance. Soon, both teams were in the air and Draco began the search for the snitch. Potter was trying equally as hard, scanning the skies for any glimpse of gold. If Draco was ever going to steal the snitch and the win from Potter, he'd have to devote his entire concentration to finding it first.

The game was brutal and raged around him while the angry wind whipped at his robes and blew through his hair. Both teams were equally fervent in their quest to injure the other team's players. Draco was continuously dodging Bludgers and trying to maintain his precarious seat on his broom. Several times he felt like he'd be knocked off.

Finally he spotted the snitch. It was hovering indolently above the Gryffindor stands. Draco twisted around to see if Potter had spied it as well. He hadn't. In fact he was searching the sky above the other end of the stands. Draco was close enough that he could reach it well before Potter even realized that he'd spotted it.

Draco darted forward, leaning down on his broom urging it forward at lightning speed. He kept his eyes trained on the glimmering gold sphere as a hush fell over the crowd. It seemed for a moment that the entire stadium had ceased to exist and it was only Draco and the snitch. He would get it, he felt it in his bones. It was so close, just a few more feet. He could hear the whisper of its wings beating against the air. Within seconds it would be his.

So intent was he on the snitch that he didn't notice Nott grab Goyle's bat and send a Bludger his way. Nobody seemed to notice as they were all watching Draco's dive for the snitch. Just as his fingers were about to wrap themselves around that elusive golden ball the Bludger made contact with his skull.

He fell from his broom unaware of the shrieks coming from the Gryffindor stands, particularly those of a certain girl who had refused to accept his apology. The stadium erupted in a chorus of screams as his unconscious body fell through the sky. He made contact with the dense earth below, his entire body shuddering upon impact.

He felt nothing.

* * *

He woke up in the Hospital Wing, heavily sedated and wrapped in white bandages. His arms and legs were tucked beneath warm woolen blankets, and though they scratched at his skin, he kept them inside. His head throbbed in pain though he knew that his body was filled with pain-killing potions. Every muscle and bone in his body felt severely abused. Even the smallest movement caused an enormous wave of pain to come crashing down. He slipped back into unconsciousness.

When he awoke again he felt mildly better. The throbbing in his head had been reduced to a dull ache and his body was much too tired to register the other aches and pains. Slowly he opened his eyes, though it took an extreme amount of effort to do so. He closed them soon after the bright light pouring through the windows reached his aching head.

He heard a gasp from beside his bed and footsteps retreating further into the Hospital Wing. Within seconds the footsteps returned, this time accompanied by the sound of Madame Pomfrey's shoes slapping against the stone floor.

"Mr. Malfoy? Can you hear me?" Her voice was aged and full of concern and it grated on his mind.

"Yeah… I can hear you just fine, but your voice is torture."

"My apologies, but you've earned yourself a rather nasty head wound. I swear that Quidditch is just too dangerous a sport for children!" she said, her voice irritated and high. "You're quite lucky that the Headmaster was able to reduce much of your impact from the stands. You would certainly be dead if he hadn't been able to act so quickly."

He didn't say anything. It hurt too much to form sentences. Just listening to the older woman made his head pound.

"I'm sure that you'll be pleased to hear that you've had a steady stream of visitors since it was announced that you were alive. Misters Crabbe and Goyle are awaiting an audience with you. If you feel up to it, I'll let them in…"

"Yeah, whatever. That's fine."

In all truth he didn't care to see them, but at that point, with his head resisting any logical thought formation, he'd agree to just about anything to get the old bird to shut up.

The curtain parted and his two former friends shuffled in to see him. They still wore their Quidditch robes and Draco assumed that they'd been waiting to see him since the end of the match.

"Well, what the hell do you want?" he questioned harshly. When they simply looked at him in confusion, he snarled out, "Just spit it out, I'm in no mood for games. Just say what you came to say and leave me in peace."

Crabbe was the first to speak, being the slightly less dense of the two. He appeared to be gathering his courage, but finally gave up and looked at Draco in sorrow.

"We just came by to say that we're sorry for the way we've been acting since school started. Honestly we didn't know that Nott was seriously going to go through with it today. We thought he was bluffing."

Goyle piped in then, his voice eager as he spoke. "Honest. We had no idea, Draco."

Crabbe gave Goyle a death glare and looked back down at Draco before continuing. "We were hoping that you'd forgive us and that we could be friends again. But, if you'd rather not, we'd understand. Right, Goyle?"

"Oh, yeah. Right."

They were both fidgeting and nervous. Their embarrassment was evident to Draco, and had he been in a more lucid frame of mind, he'd probably have turned them away. But he wasn't lucid at the moment, and he spoke candidly.

"Yeah. Whatever. You're forgiven. Just go away and leave me to die in peace," he said without moving from his place in the bed. He was being dramatic and he knew it. They knew it too.

"Sure, Draco. We'll see you tomorrow, maybe. If they let you out of here, that is."

The curtains parted and Madame Pomfrey came back by with another vile looking potion. She tutted about and made him drink it, though he gagged as it spilled down his throat. He was just slipping into sleep as her voice again raised him back to consciousness.

"There's someone else here to see you, Mr. Malfoy. Would you like me to turn them away?"

He perked up a bit before responding. "Who is it?"

"Ms. Granger. She seems quite eager to see you. Should I let her in?"

"Yeah… Yes. Thank you." His heart started pounding and he felt a constriction in his chest.

Again the curtains parted and he opened his eyes regardless of the ruthless sunlight in order to see her. She'd come to see him. Maybe that meant that she'd forgiven him. Merlin, he hoped so.

She sank into the chair by his bed and reached out gingerly with her hand to touch the bandages on his head. "Does it hurt badly?"

"Yeah, a bit. The sun's a bit too bright, but other than that, I can't complain."

"Oh, let me close the curtains then," she said quietly as she stood up and drew the curtains, effectively surrounding them again in semi-darkness. "That should help."

He didn't reply. It was still too painful.

"It was awful watching you fall like that. I felt completely helpless knowing that there was nothing I could do to help you. If it makes you feel better, right after you were portkeyed here, Professor Snape escorted Nott off to wait punishment. He'll probably be expelled for it."

"Hmm…"

"Anyway… The reason I'm here... I mean, I wanted to see you, to make sure you were alright. But… I just felt so horrible watching you fall and knowing that we never had the chance to talk about what happened last week."

He sat up slowly though it hurt to move. He didn't want to be lying down when they finally talked about this.

"Listen, I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it. I honestly don't know why I said those things. I was angry at Dumbledore and at Potter. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"I know that. It took me awhile to figure that out, to realize that you weren't really angry with _me_, just at the situation. But it still hurt," she said softly. Her hands were twisting around the woolen blankets of his bed. He wanted to reach out and touch her but was afraid to. "You can't treat people like that and then expect them to forgive you by throwing expensive presents at them. It doesn't work that way. You can't buy forgiveness, Malfoy."

That stung. He hadn't even realized until that moment that that was indeed his plan. The flowers and chocolates and candies had all been meaningless. He hadn't put forth any effort to win her back. He'd merely sent the check. _Damn, but he was stupid sometimes!_

She finally met his eyes and he saw the tears glistening in them. She refused to cry in front of him again, and that impressed him indefinitely. He still didn't speak. He was afraid to shatter the broken foundation they'd created. He'd let her speak first, to get said everything that she needed to say before he told her how he felt.

"When I saw you falling I felt like my heart was breaking. We never had the chance to talk things out, and for that I'm sorry. I don't want to leave things unsaid. But, I don't know if I can trust you, Malfoy. Not now. I guess I didn't really realize all that would come with trying to be your friend… I was hasty in giving you my trust when you really didn't want to give me the same in return… Certainly, you did make some attempts at letting me in, but then you countered that by saying that you didn't really mean any of it. But, I'm willing to try again. That is, if you are…"

The unspoken question hung in the air. What he said now would make or break any type of future they could ever have together. Her hands still reflexively curled in the blankets and Draco pulled his right arm front underneath the blanket and wrapped his hand over one of hers. She stared down at their hands timidly but didn't pull away. That was a good sign as far as Draco was concerned.

"I never meant to hurt you. Upon my honor, I will do my best never to hurt you in the future. I can't express in words what I feel, but I hope that you will give me the chance to show you."

She searched his eyes and smiled a little when she saw the truth in them that he normally would guard with his life. He'd let the barrier down for her, just this once, as a sign of his faith. He hoped that she'd recognize it for what it was, his first steps toward redemption.

"I'd like that… Draco." Her voice was like a purr, soft and soothing and it caressed his body. She was leaning forward, watching his emotions on his face, emotions he'd never shown anyone before. He could feel her warm breath against his cheek and wanted nothing more than to smother her with tender affection. Carefully, he pulled his left arm from beneath the blankets and pushed himself forward to gain a stronger seat on the bed.

Her hand was still wrapped in his and he reached for her other one so that he'd have both of her hands firmly gripped by his own. She smiled softly as he leaned forward to close the distance between them. She hesitated just as his lips touched her cheek and he squeezed her hands in reassurance. Hermione's eyes fell down upon their hands.

He felt her tense in his arms. Her hands turned to ice and her breathing became erratic. In confusion, he looked down to see what could possibly be the matter.

_Oh, Fuck! _

The Dark Mark started insolently back up at him, winking and evil from its place on his forearm. He felt her pull from his grasp and he was too stunned and sedated to protest. She stood up slowly and blindly pulled at the curtains, finally opening them, before running from the room.

He wanted to call out to her, to call her back to him. But he couldn't find the words. They were lodged in his throat, unable to escape. With a groan he sank back to the pillows. The curtains were still open and he felt a pair of eyes watching him carefully.

Across the room, Harry Potter lay in a hospital bed staring coolly at him. Draco wanted to say something to get the git to leave him alone. But he simply turned over on his side to face the other direction. _Out of sight, out of mind_.

It was only then that he noticed the shiny golden Snitch resting quietly on the bedside table next to him. He'd finally beaten Potter at Quidditch. Funny, it didn't feel quite as good as he thought it would…

A/N: Hope that you enjoyed this chapter! It was so much fun to write after I got over the initial problems of deciding how much I wanted to get done and how...

Oh, yeah... I opened a Live Journal Account and will post information there about the story, etc. Here is the link: http/ leave a review! It makes me feel so much better about the story. Taigan


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Conversations and Real...

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews you have left for this story... Keep them coming! Special Thanks go to Professor Mary for her wonderful betaing. She helped out so much with this chapter! Wonderful news... I am listed at Ferveo Project now! If you haven't yet visited their site, be sure to check it out. The link is in my Live journal account.

have HUGE plans for the next few chapters and I'm so excited about them that I've already started writing... please leave a review... It makes me write faster! Enjoy!

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Nineteen: Conversations and Realizations

Harry watched as Hermione pulled the curtain from around Malfoy's bed and ran from the room. If he'd been able to get out of the hospital bed, he'd have chased after her to make sure she was alright. But he couldn't get out of the bed. Harry heard a dramatic sigh of frustration coming from Malfoy's direction and he turned his attention back to the Slytherin Seeker across the room.

The curtains were still open around Malfoy's bed and Harry could easily observe the other boy. Harry was mildly surprised at the raw emotions playing out on Malfoy's face. He saw guilt at first, fleeting and hollow, and it staggered him. The Malfoy he knew would never feel guilt for anyone, especially not a lowly Muggleborn like Hermione. The guilt was soon followed by frustration. Malfoy still hadn't noticed him or had forgotten that he wasn't alone. The blonde boy's fingers curled into a fist and slammed down onto the blankets, a cry of anger falling from his lips. Whatever reaction Harry had expected from Malfoy, gloating or condescension over the attention perhaps, this was certainly not it.

Usually Malfoy's emotion seemed cleverly crafted and honed to portray only what he wanted others to perceive. The personality he'd created to present to the public, Harry realized, was largely different than his real one. The wild look in Malfoy's eyes was proof enough of that. If Harry wanted to be honest with himself, he'd realize that he did the same thing, built the same walls, to shield himself from the public. It was odd to think that he shared something that personal with Malfoy.

Malfoy still hadn't noticed Harry's watchful gaze, so he continued his observance. The frustration at Hermione's departure eventually found its way to sorrow. As much as Harry disliked the boy across the room, he felt pity for him, too. He'd seen those same emotions play across his own face as he'd looked into the mirror every day since Sirius's death. He didn't know what had just happened between Malfoy and Hermione, but he did recognize that the other boy had spent the last week trying to apologize. In that moment, Harry felt that he actually sympathized with Draco Malfoy. Whatever Malfoy had done or said to upset Hermione the previous week, Harry was fairly certain it was more a reaction to his pent up guilt and anger than a deliberate attempt to hurt Hermione's feelings.

If he felt like being honest with himself, Harry would admit to doing the same thing to his friends all year. But it seemed that Malfoy hadn't yet realized what he was doing subconsciously, if this recent outburst was any indication.

"Just what are you staring at, Potter?" Malfoy asked coldly, rudely interrupting Harry's thoughts.

Malfoy was leaning back on his pillows, obviously in pain; the cold sneer was back in place. The curtain blocked some of the bright sun and obscured Malfoy's face in the shadows. When he'd been sitting forward Harry had been able to better see his expression. Now that he couldn't read him to gauge their conversation, Harry relied on their familiar pattern of animosity to respond.

"What did you do this time, Malfoy? It wasn't enough to humiliate her all week with those stupid flowers and candies, but the first time she makes a move to forgive your sorry arse, you botch it up. I've got to hand it to you, Ferret, you're a real bastard. You know that?" Harry replied, ignoring the other boy's question and responding with his own.

Harry didn't know how close that last comment had cut. He couldn't see Malfoy's reddened face or the angry, hurt expression at being called a bastard. Harry didn't realize the truth of his statement.

"That's good, Potter. You keep telling yourself that… When you think about just how badly you treated Hermione since the start of term," Malfoy snarled. Harry was surprised that he'd said her name, and said it without malice. "Just remember who it was she went to for comfort from your tantrums."

"Yeah, and she came running back the minute you showed yourself for who you really are… an arrogant, selfish prick only concerned with your own opinion of yourself. The minute your two cronies begged for your forgiveness, you tossed out your only ally."

"That's bollocks and you know it," Malfoy replied disdainfully. He sighed slowly and appeared for a moment that he was thinking of how to talk down to a small child. "She's scared of the truth. That she could have feelings for me, despite what you and your lot do to convince her otherwise. She has her own mind, Potter, and you'd do well to remember that. You'd be dead several times over if it wasn't for her."

It was true and Harry had nothing to say otherwise. But it angered him that Malfoy would know all that. Was he really that transparent?

"That may very well be true, but in the end _you'll_ be the reason that she sees you for what you really are. Not me, not Ron, you… You and your pureblood prejudices and foolish notions of righteousness."

Malfoy's voice was frozen and whipped across the room in a deadly whisper. "You don't know anything about me. Don't you dare assume that you have the tiniest inkling of what I do or do not believe. I could have killed her this summer and I didn't. You can say what you want about me, Potter, but don't presume to understand what I am, or who I am. You have no idea."

"I don't have to presume a damn thing! You've made your beliefs known since the very first day I met you! People can't change what-"

Malfoy cut him off quickly. "People can change, Potter! If they couldn't then there would be no point in fighting this stupid war! Get it through your thick head that I have changed! And you have too, if you hadn't noticed. You threw away a friendship with Hermione just because you couldn't handle helping her with her problems. If anyone has changed, Potter, it's you."

They slipped into silence then. Neither willing to comment or add fuel to the already raging fire between them. Harry felt the sleeping potion he'd taken before Hermione came in creeping up on him and claiming him. He let it. He didn't want to face the reality of Malfoy's statements.

They were both being held overnight and into the next day. Draco was angry that he'd let Potter get to him so easily just a few hours before. The night had crept in while he was sleeping off the effects of the potion Madame Pomfrey had given him, and darkness had encapsulated the room. The curtains were still open around his bed and from his place on the pillows he could clearly see the doorway of the hospital wing and Potter's bed on the other side. The moon was rising over the tree tops in the distance, bright and bold. It waited.

Draco wasn't tired anymore, though his body ached from being so badly broken. He wanted to sleep as respite from his inability to get Hermione to forgive him. She'd seen his Mark, _his scar_. He had forgotten that he'd had it since he had been so caught up in having her with him. She had been warm and close, and he had smelled her hair and felt her breath on his face.

He'd almost kissed her.

He'd wanted to so badly that it ached, and it ached inside him still. She would have let him too, though he wasn't sure he'd deserved the chance. Even if he hadn't, he was an opportunist and would gladly take whatever he'd been offered. Then she'd seen the Mark. And run from the room. _From him_. And that tosser, Potter, had watched it all. _Probably gloating the whole time_. _Prick_.

He was startled from his thoughts when the door slowly creaked open though no one appeared to be there. But he couldn't really tell in the darkness. Then suddenly a person appeared, a cloak shimmering in the moonlight and Draco immediately recognized it for what it was. _An Invisibility Cloak_. His father had had one back at the Manor and Draco and his mother had played "hide and go seek" with it when he was younger. His eyes burned at the memory.

He was very careful to appear asleep, for whoever it was was intent on secrecy.

"Harry?" The quiet voice whispered. It wasn't Hermione, she didn't sound quite like that. "Are you awake?"

Potter mumbled and groaned at being woken up. His hands searched blindly for his glasses and the girl reached over and handed them to him.

"Ginny, is that you?"

"Yes. Sorry to wake you up and all but I couldn't talk about this with Malfoy being awake."

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Harry asked, his voice rising in nervous anxiety. "Is it Hermione?"

"No. Well, sort of," she replied, moving to sit facing Harry on his bed. "I came to ask if you knew what happened earlier between her and Malfoy. She's really broken up about it and won't come down from her room. Usually she'll tell me what's bothering her, but she's just completely silent."

Draco leaned closer to hear them, interest and a familiar feeling of guilt battling it out in his mind.

"Hmm… I didn't catch much of it. She pulled the curtains around them and that muffled most of what they said. I heard her say something about 'buying forgiveness,' and then I couldn't tell what was happening. I could tell they were talking but it was so soft that I couldn't make it out." A strange look appeared on his face as an idea came to him. Harry looked over at Ginny with an expression close to morbid disgust in his eyes. "You don't think they were… you know, kissing or anything, do you?"

"I don't know, Harry. I don't think so. I don't think Hermione would run off just because somebody tried to kiss her. That seems a little childish to me. He must have said something, then."

"I guess. Sorry I couldn't be of more help to you. Why didn't you wait til morning to come down? It was awfully risky coming up here in the middle of the night, even if you have my cloak. How did you get it anyway? I doubt Ron would let you take it, knowing you were just going to come here."

"You left it in the hallway that night, after we talked about the prophecy. I know I should have given it back to you earlier but I didn't want everyone to know that we went to the Room of Requirement." Draco could hear the change in her voice. She chuckled nervously a small smile on her face. "That could get embarrassing."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. Just be careful going back and try to avoid getting caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris. I wish you had the map with you."

"I'll be fine, Harry. Don't worry. I have more than enough brothers, I don't need _you_ worrying for me, too." Her voice was hopeful sounding and had taken on a flirtatious lilt. She was teasing the other boy and Draco was mildly surprised at Harry's obliviousness to her suggestion.

"Okay, Gin. Thanks for coming by to see me. It's nice to see a friendly face, even if you did wake me up from a particularly nice dream."

There was a disappointed pause and Potter seemed to be completely unaware of it. "Well, I'll leave you to it then, Harry. Try to get some sleep and don't enjoy it _too_ much," she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "I'll see you tomorrow at lunch?"

"Yeah, save me a seat. And don't let Ron eat all the treacle tart," Harry said jokingly.

She sighed quietly. "Goodnight, Harry," she said, bending over and giving the dark haired boy a kiss on his forehead.

"Night, Gin."

She swept the cloak around her shoulders and disappeared in the darkness. The moon was high overhead now and soon Harry would be able to see that Draco was not asleep. The door opened and shut quietly and Draco could hear the soft patter of her feet against the stones in the corridor. Potter sank back into his pillows, a small smile decorating his face. Draco couldn't resist tormenting him.

His voice cut across the darkness and startled Harry from his reverie. "You're even thicker than I tell people, Potter, not to notice such an obvious play for your affection."

Potter's reply was part confusion, part astonishment, but mostly anger. "What is that supposed to mean, Malfoy? And didn't your parents teach you not to listen in on other people's _private_ conversations!"

"The Weaselette was practically throwing herself at you, you daft git. Why else would she come here in the middle of the night when we both know perfectly well that her stupid question could have waited til morning? Take it for what it is, Potter, Weasel's younger sister wants you, for Merlin knows what hideous reason, and you just let her go. And you call me stupid…"

Harry tried to cut in but Draco didn't let him. "In answer to your second question, Potter, I was taught to always listen in on private conversations. Really, did you expect any differently? And, weren't you just confessing to the Weaselette that you'd been listening in on my private conversation? You'd do well to eat your words before accusing me of something similar." Draco said smugly before falling back onto his pillows. He could fall asleep now that he'd properly gotten revenge for their conversation earlier.

"Goodnight, Potter," he sang complacently.

"So…" Hermione began slowly.

Ginny could feel her friend watching her carefully from across the table in the Library. She almost laughed aloud at Hermione's attempt at subtlety, but she restrained herself and focused on the book in front of her. Hermione was never going to be successful in the art of understated diplomacy. Ginny could feel Hermione's indignation at the obvious brush-off and tried again to keep from grinning. Finally, when it was apparent that she wasn't going to be able to read any longer, she casually glanced back up at her friend and leaned back in her chair.

She repeated Hermione's lame attempt to start a conversation. "So…"

At this, they collapsed in girlish giggling, earning them both a glare from Madame Pince. Hermione instantly sobered and drew her chair closer to the table. Hermione was blushing from the embarrassment of being called out by the librarian and by her friend. "Oh, bother… I guess I'll just cut right to the question then." Hermione pursed her lips together in concentration and Ginny eagerly leaned in. Hermione's voice was barely more than a whisper. "So, what's going on with you and Harry?"

Whatever Ginny had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. Ever since they'd left the Common Room, Ginny had known that Hermione had something she wanted to talk about. Hermione had been trying to get her attention for quite some time, but every time she'd start to pose her question she'd balk and retreat… And Ginny had been quite amused by the whole thing. But she wasn't expecting Hermione to ask her about her relationship, or lack thereof, with Harry. As she sputtered about for an answer, Hermione smirked haughtily.

"You two looked fairly friendly sleeping on the couch in the Common Room last week… I've been meaning to ask you about this but we've never been alone." Hermione's eyes were bright and cheerful, a drastic difference from the way she'd looked over the course of the week. Ever since the Quidditch match, Hermione had been distant and uncommunicative. This was definitely an improvement, and Ginny felt like indulging her friend in some much needed girl-talk.

"You really cut to the chase, don't you?" She sighed dramatically and closed her book. Hermione immediately put down her quill and assumed an eager listening position. Ginny's voice was low and conspiratorial as she continued. "There is absolutely nothing going on between Harry and me… we're just friends. Nothing more."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together in response and obvious skepticism. "So, how do you explain how cozy the pair of you looked together? Your choice of sleeping arrangements looked a little 'more than friendly' to me…"

"Oh, please," she said sarcastically. "You and Ron got the nice warm chairs by the fire. I can't help it if it gets cold at night in that drafty tower. Harry and I were just seeking body heat," she continued loftily before breaking into a full grin. "Don't you just love cold weather?"

Hermione smiled knowingly for a moment then retreated in silent introspection. She'd been doing this periodically all week, laughing or talking in one moment and quiet and contemplative the next. Ginny was really worried for her friend. They all were.

Ginny recognized Hermione's silent retreat for what it was… an attempt to figure out just where she stood with Malfoy and what she wanted from him. Ginny could relate, she was going through the same thing, but her relationship with Harry was decidedly less complicated than Hermione's was with Malfoy. Ginny didn't think she'd ever understand it. She knew, however, that Hermione wanted something with the Slytherin, and whether that was a rational desire or not, Ginny knew that she'd give Hermione her support. Even if Harry and Ron wouldn't. Especially if they wouldn't.

Something had changed following the Quidditch Match and Malfoy's injury. Before, in the days of his blatant attempt to buy back her affection, Hermione had been vehemently opposed to any sort of reconciliation. But since his fall, and whatever had gone on between the two of them in the hospital wing after the match, Hermione had subtly changed her position. Or seemed to be debating it, either way she would frequently detach herself from conversations, seemingly unaware that she was doing so.

For the last few days Ginny had been trying, in vain, to piece together just what had happened that caused Hermione's recent indecision. She'd gone over every aspect of the match and her conversation in the hospital wing with Harry, hoping to come up with some sort of explanation. Ginny watched her friend carefully, eager to glean some sort of understanding from her pensive expression. But, Hermione's features were carefully schooled and held no answers for her.

For what seemed like the hundredth time in the past few days, Ginny found herself mentally retracing every aspect of the Quidditch match that she could…

Ginny had been flying on the other side of the pitch, away from both Malfoy and Harry. She had been caught up in her own role as Chaser and hadn't paid any attention to either team's Seekers, that is until Malfoy began the dive for the Snitch. The whole stadium went silent as they watched, transfixed by the scene in front of them. Ginny searched the pitch for Harry, hoping that he'd be able to steal the Snitch from the Malfoy. But he was on the opposite side of the pitch and would never be able to reach it in time.

Ginny, and it seemed virtually every other player from both teams, stopped in amazement as Malfoy dove for the Snitch. Harry flew past her in a blur of red and gold but didn't seem to be chasing after Malfoy, instead it appeared that he was heading straight for Nott.

Harry darted forward, seemingly the only one, who noticed Theodore Nott making his way toward Malfoy, his beady eyes intent on revenge. About halfway towards his target, Nott grabbed Goyle's bat. Harry was too far from Malfoy to engage in any sort of battle for the Snitch, but close enough to Nott to prevent the rabbity Slytherin from attacking. Well, almost close enough…

Just as Malfoy got within range, Nott sent a Bludger sailing across the pitch at his unsuspecting head. Harry didn't even appear to watch Malfoy fall, instead he careened into Nott, knocking the bat from his hand just as the Bludger made contact and sent Malfoy falling from his broom. Harry had braced himself for the collision but Nott had been too preoccupied to even recognize Harry's imminent arrival. Ginny's gaze shifted back and forth from Harry and Nott to Malfoy's body as it fell from the sky.

Harry hated such blatantly unfair play and Ginny knew that he would have done the same thing for any player, regardless of the team they played for. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Actually Ginny was rather surprised by Harry's attempt to help Malfoy. It seemed that the entire stadium was surprised by it, too.

Rapidly tearing her eyes from Harry and Nott, Ginny turned toward Malfoy to watch as he plummeted to the ground below. It all happened so quickly that Ginny was astonished that Dumbledore was able to do anything to stop the blow. But, mere inches from contact, Dumbledore did something that lessened the impact. It was too late to stop Malfoy's body from breaking though.

At first, Ginny thought he might be dead. Even Harry and Nott stopped their fist fight long enough to watch the scene below. The stands were deathly quiet. The professors were just beginning to rush onto the pitch, and Ginny flew quickly down to watch. Ron met her a few seconds after her feet made contact with the ground. He too was staring open mouthed at Malfoy's body.

Malfoy was unconscious and bloodied. His legs were bent at odd angles as were his arms. The back of his head lay open and bleeding from the Bludger. Ginny had never in her life seen as much blood as was steadily pouring from Malfoy's body. A thought crossed her mind quickly but she didn't really register it… _He should have been dead. _

Dumbledore was bent over him and McGonagall stood at his side, ready to take action. They were all so quiet. Dumbledore muttered some spells and soon the blood had stopped flowing from his skull. She heard the Headmaster whisper to McGonagall that Malfoy's back was broken and would need to be fixed before they could portkey him to the Hospital Wing. The two of them set about fixing his broken bones. They made quick work of it and after a few minutes Malfoy's legs and arms were no longer mangled looking and twisted. Ginny almost felt sorry for him… _Almost._

She heard gasping and heavy footsteps coming up behind her at an alarming pace. She had barely turned around to see who it was when Hermione tore past her and Ron and knelt beside Malfoy's prone body.

"He's _dead!_" she half screeched as she stared transfixed at the boy in front of her.

Ginny could tell that Hermione was near hysterics, but it was Ron who stepped forward and took her arm. He pulled her away from Malfoy's body so that Dumbledore could continue the emergency treatment.

"He's not dead, Hermione. Dumbledore did what he could to break the fall but Malfoy fell so fast… It's okay. They are just fixing his broken bones. He'll be alright. Don't worry." Ron's voice was surprisingly reassuring and Ginny was proud that her brother could so easily calm Hermione down.

Hermione was nodding her head slowly as if letting the words sink in. She wasn't crying but she still looked much too shocked. Ron eventually had to pull her away completely from the growing crowd. Ginny watched for a moment as Ron took Hermione in his arms and whispered comforting words into her ear.

A realization struck her suddenly… Ron had grown up. And then she had an even more disconcerting thought… They all had. None of them were children any longer. The violence of their battle in the Department of Mysteries, and with Hermione's kidnapping that summer… and now with Malfoy's body lying broken and bleeding on the ground, Ginny realized just how close the war was looming on the horizon.

If she looked close enough, hard enough, she could see the signs of it all around her. Any hope that they could ignore it, or wish it away like children, had been eradicated. If the war could be brought to them, through something as close and innocent as a game of Quidditch, then there was no hope for a peaceful settlement, only the realization and necessity of war. It was a scary thought, one that Ginny had hoped she wouldn't have to face. She would only be naïve to ignore it.

Dumbledore took the emergency portkey out of the pocket of his robes and whisked Malfoy away to the Hospital Wing. McGonagall stayed behind to supervise the students. Snape pulled out his wand and _Accio-_ed Nott down to the ground. She was surprised to see the anger seething just under his skin… Snape looked ready to kill as his eyes trained on Nott's bloodied nose and darkening skin. It was only then that Ginny remembered to look around for Harry. Finally she spotted him; he was still up in the sky on his broom.

He looked funny, like something was really, really wrong. Without thinking Ginny jumped back on her broom and launched herself in Harry's direction. In seconds she pulled up beside him, hovering so close that their legs brushed against each other. His face was contorted in pain and he was clutching his scar with one hand, while keeping a tight grip on his broom handle with the other.

"Harry?" she asked tentatively. "Are you alright?"

He grimaced and looked at her, his glasses broken from his fight with Nott. "He knows. Voldemort knows…He watched it through me. I think he was the one who ordered Nott to do it in the first place."

Ginny froze in place at hearing _his _name and the accusation in Harry's voice. "Are you sure? I mean Nott could have just wanted revenge on his own for what Malfoy said about his father at the hearing."

"Maybe…" he replied, still clutching his scar and trying to maintain control of his broom.

"Merlin, Harry! You are covered in bruises! We've got to get you to the infirmary!" Ginny yelled authoritatively. When Harry didn't respond she shouted, "Well, come on! Maybe we can get some news about Malfoy…"

Harry nodded quickly and followed her back down to the ground below. Most of the crowd had wandered back to the castle, presumably at the request of one of the professors. Ron was still comforting a visibly shaken Hermione. Ron looked over at them pleadingly when he noticed them land a few feet away. Hermione had her head buried in Ron's Quidditch robes and Ginny couldn't imagine it being a very pleasant experience what with the sweat and dirt caked onto the front of it.

Hermione swiped at her eyes when she realized that they were standing there waiting on her. She looked Harry up and down, taking in the blood and dirt, all tell-tale signs of a fight, and rushed to his side. "Oh, Harry! Are you alright! I didn't even notice what happened to you, I was too caught up watching Dr - What happened?"

"I'm fine, just got into a bit of a scrape with Nott, that's all. Nothing to worry about," Harry said kindly, obviously trying to soothe Hermione's already frazzled nerves. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

She blushed sheepishly and cast her eyes down at the ground before responding. "I'm fine, Harry. Thank you for asking. It was just a shock, that's all. I was so afraid that he would – that something would happen and I wouldn't get the chance to tell him that I'm not angry at him anymore."

They were all silent for several long seconds before Harry groaned quietly in pain.

"Is it You-Know-Who again, Harry?" Ginny asked quickly, grabbing onto his elbow.

"No, just my damn shoulder, I'm pretty sure I dislocated it. I think you were right Gin, I do need to go the hospital wing."

The four of them all started back towards the school grounds, walking slowly to allow for Harry's aches and pains. It was Hermione who finally broke the silence.

"Wait a minute… What was that about Voldemort?" she asked quickly, Ginny's previous statement finally sinking in.

"He was mad, I could tell that much. He knew though that Malfoy wasn't dead. I'm not really sure how he could have known… He wasn't watching through me, I would have felt it." Ginny noticed the lie. He'd said just minutes before that You-Know-Who had been watching through him… why would he lie?

It was Ron who spoke up next. "Why would he be mad that Malfoy wasn't dead? Sorry, Hermione," he said quickly after earning a glare from her. "I mean, he's supposed to be one of his followers. I wouldn't be surprised if he already was a Death Eater."

"Draco is not a Death Eater, Ronald!" Hermione spat out. "And Voldemort has plenty of reason to want him dead… he did, afterall, give the Ministry the names of all those involved in my kidnapping. And that includes Nott's father. Draco is just as much a target now as any of us, probably more so, with the exception of Harry."

Harry spoke up at the mention of his name. "I agree. As much as I hate to admit it, Malfoy did come clean with the Ministry. Voldemort has plenty of reason to want revenge. I just didn't think it would happen at a Quidditch game…"

Ron still seemed skeptical about Malfoy's importance, and Ginny remained neutral. They continued on for a few more minutes, each absorbed in their own private thoughts, until Ron stopped in front of them and turned around.

"This doesn't make any sense! No matter what you say, Hermione, Malfoy, up until just a few months ago, was quite chummy with all the other Death Eaters… Maybe Nott just did it on his own, you know, as revenge for his father," Ron said quickly, obviously not liking any conclusion that ended with Malfoy being a victim… Ginny privately agreed with him.

Hermione however, was quick to defend the other boy and rounded on Ron in anger. "Do you honestly think that Nott is smart enough to come up with a plan like that on his own? If what Harry says about Voldemort's anger is true, then I think Nott was supposed to try and make it look like an ordinary Quidditch accident. But when Malfoy spotted the Snitch he was forced to act hastily before the game was over. That's why he was so obvious about it," Hermione replied quickly. "But now the whole school knows. I wouldn't be surprised if Nott got expelled or even sentenced to time in Azkaban."

"Do you really think so?" Ginny asked quietly. Hermione did make a rather convincing argument…

"I wouldn't doubt it. Not that a sentence in Azkaban means very much anymore. He'll probably just get busted out by the Death Eaters upon his arrival," Hermione said, anger in her voice. Ginny could hear the fear behind the anger, and the remains of her tears.

Again, they lapsed into silence and continued up the path to the infirmary.

Hermione didn't know how long she and Ginny had been in the library, probably a considerable amount of time judging from the shift in the rays of sunlight pouring through the windows. When they'd first arrived the sun had reached far into the library, way past the perimeter of their table. But now it barely covered her open book. She noticed vaguely that she hadn't flipped the page in several hours… oh, well. It wasn't like Ginny would give her a hard time about being too caught up in her thoughts to give much effort to the pretense of studying. Ginny, it appeared, seemed caught up in her own private thoughts. _Just as well_, Hermione thought, _there's quite a lot to think about lately_.

First and foremost on her mind was, of course, Draco. Draco and his Dark Mark. That had certainly been a surprise. An unwelcome, horrible, hope-dashing surprise. But not an unexpected one. Or it shouldn't have been unexpected, anyway, had Hermione been able to think rationally when she was around him. Even Ron had been able to guess at the truth she had made herself blind to.

The real question was not 'why had he done it,' or 'what did it mean,' because the answers to those questions were obsolete now. The real question was 'what did it change?' _Nothing_, not really, anyway. Presumably he'd had it since before her kidnapping, and hadn't that been when he'd really gone against Voldemort and his father? Maybe it meant more to her, his denial of his father, now that she knew he had the Mark. Because he'd believed in Voldemort enough to take it, he'd believed in the cause enough to take it. But in the end he'd rescinded. And that is what mattered, anyway.

He'd had the Mark the entire time they'd gotten to know one another. And had he been really awful to her, other than outside Dumbledore's office? That didn't really count in her estimation. The answer was that he hadn't. He'd never lied about it… omitted maybe, but never lied. Hermione was fairly certain that she could have asked him if she'd ever thought about it. Dumbledore probably knew… The Headmaster always seemed to be so much more aware of everything than anyone gave him credit for.

She and Ginny were so caught up in their individual thoughts that it took Hermione a moment to realize that they weren't alone anymore. A shadow fell across the table, scattering the darkening sunlight. She looked up, into the face she'd been avoiding since their confrontation in the hospital wing. Draco.

It took Hermione another moment to tear her eyes off of him. She hadn't really looked at him in days, and hadn't seen him up close since the night she found his Dark Mark. He'd been about to kiss her, then… He stood with his back to the sunlight, his face a myriad of shadows and secrets. His hair caught the light and looked bright and gold, almost angelic, like a halo. His arms were covered by his robe and she couldn't see the Mark. She reluctantly pulled her eyes away, wanting to drink in the sight of him, but unable given the social implications of denied attraction and mutual animosity. It was only then that she realized that he wasn't alone, either.

To Hermione's everlasting surprise, Harry was with him.

Harry looked just as shocked by that fact as she assumed that she did. No one said anything for a moment, and the awkward silence was palpable. She could taste it. Finally it was Ginny who spoke.

"Harry, what's going on? I'm confused… Why is he here?"

Harry shook his head as if to clear it, his eyebrows knitted together as he tried to find the words. "Uh – It's Dumbledore. Apparently Malfoy and I have a lot to talk about. Dumbledore suggested that we sit down together and strategize. Or something."

"What Potter is rather inarticulately trying to say is that we've been ordered by a deranged meddlesome fool to _talk_ to each other," Draco sneered disdainfully. "Without violence," he added, pausing if to consider the futility of such an option.

When no one responded, Draco sighed loudly. "And the old man recommended that you two and Weasley be included," he finished haughtily.

Hermione immediately recognized his defensive posturing for what it was and then realized that she hadn't heard it in quite a while.

Hermione finally connected what Harry and Draco were saying with what Dumbledore had suggested back in his office, what was it, two weeks before? _Finally_, she thought, _we're going to talk about the prophecies_…

A/N: Thanks again for reading... please leave a review or visit me at my LJ!


	21. Chapter Twenty: The Room of Requirement

A/N: Just wanted to say thanks to the reviewers... Especially to Sunny June 46 for her thoughtful and encouraging comments. I really appreciate the support. Thanks also go to my beta, the wonderful Professor Mary for all her help with this chapter.

Enjoy!

* * *

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Twenty: The Room of Requirement

Draco hated the idea of uniting with Potter for anything… but when Dumbledore had called him to his office that afternoon and he'd seen Potter sitting uncomfortably in one of the chairs, Draco knew that there was really no way out of it. It grated on his nerves, his seeming lack of control. Dumbledore had sat pleasantly in his chair and suggested the idea of discussing their individual prophecies as if the two of them weren't enemies. That's what bothered him most, the old Professor's blatant disregard for the futility of this idea.

Draco had no intention of helping Potter with anything… not without good reason, anyway. Killing the Dark Lord wasn't really much of an incentive for Draco, though the situation with Nott had proved that the Dark Lord really wanted _him_ out of the picture. Getting Hermione back, however, seemed a much better reason. If playing along with Potter would convince her that he really wasn't a monster, then he'd do it… he'd try to be civil.

He couldn't guarantee anything, though. As long as he didn't have to get along with the Weasel, he'd be happy. He could put up with Potter for the sake of reconciling with Hermione, but the Weasel was an entirely different story. He'd always hated Weasley, almost as much as he'd hated Potter, maybe more so… The daft git seemed to coast along on the coattails of his betters, always grasping for Potter's fame and Hermione's intelligence. Yes, Draco hated the Weasel more than anybody else, and he suspected that the feeling was mutual.

Interestingly enough, it was he who first agreed to Dumbledore's request for an 'anti-aggression' pact… Potter had been the one who carried on, yelling like a child throwing a fit, at the suggestion. Draco had been so pleased to be the mature one… He smirked at the mere thought of it. He'd sat coolly in his chair while Potter had his tantrum. The Headmaster looked on, as if he, too, were amused by their very different reactions.

It had taken Dumbledore reminding the Gryffindor of the attempt on Draco's life before he'd finally relented. After they'd both agreed to a temporary settlement of their differences, Dumbledore suggested inviting Hermione and the two Weasels for added brain power. Draco didn't see the need; after all, Hermione was smarter than her friends were combined. But he couldn't say otherwise to the Headmaster.

The two of them made an unlikely pair as they left the office and made their way to find Hermione and the others. It was better just to get this all over with as quickly as possible, in his opinion. They looked in the most logical place first… the library. The two girls were sitting at a table in the back corner. It wasn't the table he'd shared with Hermione, but another one, further from the windows.

Both girls appeared to be deep in thought when they arrived and didn't notice either of them for several moments. He took the opportunity to study Hermione since he hadn't been very close to her in days. She was pensive, staring off at nothing, her eyes focusing on something deep within her mind. He wondered if he could guess what she was thinking… He could tell from her expression that she was confused, conflicted about something. She was absently chewing her bottom lip, a habit he noticed she had when giving considerable attention to her thoughts.

Slowly, as if coming out of trance, she noticed him. Her eyes rested for a moment on his hands, both of which were leisurely draped across the wooden table's gnarled surface. Her gaze traveled up his arms gradually, until it came to a stop on his face. He felt her eyes, piercing and strong, searching his own, as if afraid that he wasn't really there, but a figment of her imagination.

Finally she noticed that Potter was with him and a look of confusion crossed her face, but it was the other one, Ginny, who spoke. But Hermione didn't take her eyes off of him, not even when Potter started talking, though he was fairly sure that she listened, anyway.

Potter mumbled and tripped over the words as he spoke them, making Draco's head ache in annoyance. "Uh – It's Dumbledore. Apparently Malfoy and I have a lot to talk about. Dumbledore suggested that we sit down together and strategize. Or something."

Draco sighed at Potter's inability to string two sentences together without sounding like a fool and cut in. "What Potter is rather inarticulately trying to say is that we've been ordered by a deranged meddlesome fool to _talk_ to each other," he said, each word punctuated with disgust. "Without violence," he added, as if there were no other alternatives.

Draco felt the female Weasley's scorching gaze on him and he glared down at her. No one spoke so he continued. "And the old man recommended that you two and Weasley be included."

Hermione was again looking at him, a small frown on her face. Then, quite suddenly, her expression changed to that of excited realization.

"Are we finally going to talk about the prophecies?" she asked enthusiastically. It took a lot of Draco's self-restraint not to break out in a grin at her obvious happiness, even if he was less than thrilled at the idea of working with Potter and the Weasleys.

Potter's voice cut into his thoughts, however. "You knew about the prophecy?" he asked Hermione bitingly. "I thought I told you that in confidence…" he said, turning his glare from Hermione to the Weaselette.

Hermione stood up quickly in her friend's defense, an arm reaching out to placate the other boy. "Ginny never said a word and until this moment I didn't even realize you'd told anyone. Honestly, Harry. I was with Draco when Dumbledore told him of his prophecy. It was he who mentioned the other prophecy and Draco's relation to yours, Harry."

Hermione's arm was still resting on Potter's and the familiarity of it bothered Draco immensely. It seemed to bother Ginny, too, though the other girl had no reason to be jealous, since Hermione's affections lay elsewhere. At least Draco hoped they did. But Ginny broke in anyway, too quickly, and Hermione retracted her hand from Potter's arm. _Good girl_.

"There's more than one prophecy! Malfoy has one, too? Merlin, this is just getting to be too much!" Ginny sighed dramatically before dropping her head into her hands in frustration.

"Would you be quiet! Do you Gryffindors have absolutely no sense, whatsoever? This is not something we want the entire school and half of Hogsmeade to hear!" Draco said coldly. Ginny raised her head and snarled at him in response but didn't say anything.

"Perhaps we should move this conversation somewhere a little more private…" Hermione suggested diplomatically.

Potter nodded and Ginny started gathering her things. Within minutes they were making their way to the front of the library. Draco ignored the open-mouthed stares of the other students as he trailed indolently behind Potter and Ginny. Hermione followed just a few steps behind him, leaving Draco to wonder if she didn't trust herself, or him, enough to walk beside him.

When they got into the corridor, Potter turned to the female Weasel and asked her to fetch her brother. She turned back to him, hands on hips, and said, "You honestly think that I can convince Ron, my brother, tall red-headed bloke, mortal enemy of the Ferret-"

"What's that, Weasley!"

"Sorry… As I was saying. You honestly think that Ron will willingly come along for this little meeting? You're probably more likely to be struck by lightning…"

Potter grimaced. "I see your point… I'll come with you." He turned toward Hermione and asked, "Are you going to be alright?"

Draco stepped forward, an arm out to possessively claim the sleeve of Hermione's robe. "She'll be fine, Potter." The other boy still looked skeptical. "She's got her wand right here… and we all know that she's more than capable with it."

Potter still looked for affirmation in Hermione's face before nodding slightly and turning to continue down the corridor. Ginny stayed behind a moment longer, her eyes searching Hermione's. Finally, ignoring Draco again, she said, "Meet us at the Room of Requirement. We'll be right along." She gave Hermione one final imploring look before turning on her heel and chasing after Potter.

They were alone. _Finally_. He'd been waiting for a moment like this all week, a time when he could try to explain to her what she'd seen that night in the hospital wing. Not that it needed it, really. Dark Marks were fairly self-explanatory…

They walked in silence, and Draco spent the time it took for them to reach the Room of Requirement mentally deliberating various ways to broach the subject. He couldn't come up with any. In the end, though, he didn't need to. She did it for him.

"It doesn't matter to me. I know that you got it before… that day. I mean, at least I think you did. You didn't get it afterwards? Did you?" she asked quietly, her eyes trained purposefully on the floor. She refused to look at him. "Please, tell me you got it before…"

"The ceremony was the night before. I wasn't even sure what was going to happen until we got to your house."

"Oh." She glanced up at him, over her shoulder, her hair obscuring part of her face. "I see. Well, it's just as I thought then."

"Look, Hermione, I just want to get some things straight between us. I'm tired of this just hanging in the air all the time." The words rushed out, and he was unable to stop himself. Deliberately, he slowed himself down. He wanted to choose his words carefully. If he got his thoughts across just right, then maybe she'd understand. It was a subject that neither of them had been willing to acknowledge and that both of them had ignored.

His voice was stronger than he meant it to be when he finally began speaking again. "I didn't know until we got to your house what was going to happen. I didn't think I'd start out with something so serious so quickly. I thought we'd begin with a little muggle-baiting, throwing up the Dark Mark in muggle neighborhoods, that sort of thing..."

She looked like she wanted to cut in, but he held up his hand for silence, requesting her permission to continue uninterrupted. She closed her mouth and waited for him to speak.

"I want you to understand, and you don't have to believe me. I just want to be able to tell you… I would have done the same thing for anyone, any Muggle-born." He stopped talking at the confused look on her face. "I don't want you thinking that the only reason that I didn't go through with killing you was because of who you are. What I'm trying to say is that I don't think I could have killed anyone, any Muggle-born."

When she didn't say anything for a moment, the tension set in. The nervous fluttering in his stomach returned and he could feel his heart beating rapidly inside his chest. Draco needed to know what she thought; he needed to know what she would say. But she wouldn't look at him, or couldn't, he was unable to tell which. He felt like he was so close to finally making a breakthrough with her. He could feel the months of confusion and awkwardness finally reaching their breaking point. But he had to know what she thought of his declaration.

But she still hadn't said anything.

"Hermione, I need to know… You've got to talk to me," he said quietly, the words whispered and controlled, unlike his previous statements.

Her hair was still obscuring her face from his view and he desperately wanted to see her eyes, to see if she understood what he was trying so hard to tell her. Tentatively, he reached forward with his hand and brushed the dark curls back from her face. She turned toward him then, every thought and emotion conveyed through her eyes.

But he needed to hear her say it. He needed to know that she understood. He considered for a moment just walking away. It was beneath him to beg for anything, especially something as simple as a few words. But in the end, he gave into the temptation to ask, one last time…

"Please…"

It was only then that Draco learned the power of that simple word. In his eyes it became more potent than any spell or incantation. It had the ability to bring people down before him and do as he asked. The word 'Please' was a powerful motivator, and it had the necessary effect on Hermione.

"Oh, Draco. I do understand… It doesn't matter to me that you took the Dark Mark, or that you joined with the Death Eaters. All that matters is that when it really counted, you rejected it and more importantly, you rejected the path your father had set out for you. The Dark Mark doesn't mean anything if you don't believe in it, or its power. It means more if you don't."

He made to reply but just then Potter and the two Weasleys returned. They were all looking at him oddly and with distrust. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Hermione understood. Eventually they would, too, though their approval meant little to him, then.

"Why are we just standing around? Let's get on with this, then," Potter said coldly, his eyes on Draco.

"Just waiting on you, old friend… Didn't want to start the party without the approval of the gracious host," Draco drawled back at him, his bad mood lessening more and more since his conversation with Hermione. He could almost forgive Potter's insolence.

Potter ignored him and paced back and forth in front of the wall until the door appeared. He gestured for them all to go inside before him, but as Draco made to move in after the two girls and Ron, Potter brushed past him and into the room. The door almost swung back and hit him, but he caught it and followed bitterly behind the other boy and into the room. He couldn't really blame Potter; he supposed he could understand the other boy's attitude.

Draco had never been inside the Room of Requirement, though he was aware of its existence and understood the mechanics of its use. The room was set up with individual arm chairs and a large thick rug in the center of the room. A tea service stood alone on a low table before a long couch. There were few decorations about the room and it served its utilitarian purpose.

Hermione sat down on one end of the couch and Ginny sat down next to her. The Weasel took the arm chair closest to Hermione, leaving only two chairs in the room. Refusing to sit next to Weasel King, Draco took one of the chairs on the opposite side of the rug, furthest from the couch. He just dared Potter to sit next to him. The boy didn't, however, and took up the seat next to Ginny on the couch. Draco smirked at Potter for his seating choice… _I just love being right_.

He felt the isolation of being on the opposite side, with the four little Gryffindors forming a solid front before him. It wasn't his choice to be here and he didn't want to make friends… But he was there, and he was concerned about his own life. And Hermione's. If working with the little group of self-righteous Gryffindors is what it took to ensure his and Hermione's safety, then he'd make the necessary sacrifices. _Even if it included an afternoon with Potter_.

* * *

"Let me get this straight," Ron said as he leaned forward in his chair, his brow knit together in confusion. "You've got to kill You-Know-Who before he kills you," he said to Harry before turning to Malfoy. "And you're this so called Half-Blood Prince."

Malfoy glared back at him before replying icily, "That is how it appears on the surface, Weasley."

Ron felt like gloating for a moment. "So that means that you're not a pure-blood, then?" he teased mercilessly.

Ron loved the feeling of having finally one-upped the Slytherin… he wanted to relish in it and laugh and taunt the other boy, but his sister wouldn't let him…

Ginny cut in before the problem could escalate. "Oh, come off it, Ron. That's not what's important right now. We've got to figure out what the prophecies mean," Ginny scolded.

Feeling sufficiently reprimanded, Ron stamped down on the desire to ridicule Malfoy for the years of tormenting and torture he'd endured at the other boy's hands. He really wanted revenge for that damned 'Weasley is Our King' song…

"Actually," Hermione interjected, interrupting Ron from his feelings of revenge, "I think we need to try to understand the more immediate problems first. Why have Draco, Harry, and I all been threatened? And do the threats relate to one another?"

It took Ron a second to digest what she'd said… she'd been threatened? That was unbelievably more frightening than the fight in the Department of Mysteries or the fall Malfoy had from his broom. Hermione being threatened was basically the worst thing that could happen. Ron was shocked and couldn't say anything.

"What do you mean, you've been threatened?" Harry asked quickly. "I thought Voldemort was only targeting Malfoy and me."

Hermione sighed before glancing at Malfoy, almost as if she needed his approval before speaking. The other boy nodded almost imperceptibly and she continued. "Draco's mother apparently wants to shut me up about this summer. She thinks that I'm the only one who knows about… Draco's biological parentage. Obviously she's afraid that I'll go to the papers and discredit her family," she said quietly, her eye on Malfoy the entire time. She looked back at Harry, then leaned across Ginny and reassuringly reached out for his arm. "But, there's no need to worry. Dumbledore already knows and protection measures have been put into place. As long as I'm here, I'll be safe. It'll be alright, Harry. I promise."

The thought that Hermione was also targeted was heavy on Ron's heart. It brought the whole thing close to home and made the entire situation even more real. He couldn't say anything, or find any words to respond with. He was afraid for her, even if Dumbledore had made sure she was protected. It wasn't nearly enough simply to have safeguards placed around the school.

It was Ginny who finally broke the silence. "Okay, so we need to figure out why the three of you have been targeted."

Ron turned to Harry and asked, "What does You-Know-Who actually know about the prophecies?"

Harry nodded at the question, gathering his thoughts as he pulled his mouth tight before answering. "Dumbledore figured that he only heard about the very first part of my prophecy. He didn't hear the rest."

"So, what did the prophecies say again, Hermione? You wrote them both down. Read them back to us again," Ginny said, obviously confused and eager to piece everything together.

Hermione pulled the parchment out in front of her. "Alright. Harry's first: '_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as an equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives._'"

"Now, how much did You-Know-Who hear, again?" Ron asked.

Harry responded tiredly, "He heard up to the bit about 'marking him as an equal.' That's why he went after me and my parents. That's why I've got this scar."

Hermione's eyes burned brightly as she digested the information. "Voldemort fulfilled part of the prophecy without even knowing it. And he was confused about why you weren't dead. That's why the Killing Curse didn't work on you, Harry. That's why he lured you into the Department of Mysteries last term. He wanted the prophecy, and all his previous attempts to get it had failed. He needed you to get it for him."

Harry nodded. "That's what Dumbledore thought, anyway."

Ginny looked up at Harry, an expression of horror on her face. "So, basically, you've got to kill him or he's got to kill you…"

Before Harry could respond, Malfoy cut in. "That's the most basic understanding of it anyway, Weasley. Let's move on to something we don't already get."

Ron felt like hitting him. _Bloody ferret_… But he kept his anger in check, though it required sufficient effort.

"What about the 'power the Dark Lord knows not' or whatever it was?" Ron asked.

"I don't know… I've been trying to figure something out about that. Any ideas, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I guess that could be my mother's sacrifice. That's what Dumbledore thinks saved me from Voldemort in the first place. I dunno, that could be it. Maybe."

"Hmm… I don't know. You're probably right, though. If Dumbledore thinks it, then it must be true…" Hermione replied, her eyes on the parchment in front of her, intent on discerning its secrets.

Malfoy sighed dramatically, and everyone but Hermione was pointedly ignoring him. "You lot are looking at this from the entirely wrong angle. I don't see how you've all managed to stay alive if this is your method for solving things."

"And what would you know about it, Malfoy?" Ron ground out angrily.

"Ron, stop it. Draco's right. We aren't looking at this the right way. We've got to dig a little deeper. What I don't understand is how the two prophecies relate… They don't make any sense together. Let's try tackling Draco's now, shall we?" Hermione suggested, tactfully changing the subject.

"My prophecy is much more interesting, anyway," Malfoy said smugly, sending a disdainful look at Ron.

Ron resisted the urge to growl.

"I just don't get it… It doesn't make any sense, like Harry's does. It's all very vague. There are a thousand meanings for every part of it," Hermione said, her voice drenched in confusion.

"Oh, just read it, Hermione," Ron urged, still annoyed at Malfoy.

"Alright, Ron. No need to get snippy," she replied, her voice laced with exasperation. "'_The fate of our world is divided in two; What once was old will again be new. Black and White will become Grey; The Grey to be reformed like clay. In the deepest dark a spark is born; Though it's true his heart is torn. What will be lost will come again; Though it will be where it had not been. As the old moon fades into the new; The Half-Blood Prince is crowned askew...'"_

"So, what's the relation of this prophecy to Harry's?" Ginny asked quietly, appearing to still dwell on the knowledge that Harry would have to face You-Know-Who in a showdown. Ron felt badly for her, he really did.

Hermione turned toward Malfoy. "Any ideas you'd care to contribute, Draco?"

"A few… I mean, obviously the first bit is about the pure-bloods and the muggle-borns. What else could it be, anyway?" he replied nonchalantly.

"It could refer to Harry and You-Know-Who. The fate of the entire wizarding world practically rests in his hands," Ginny chimed in proudly.

Hermione chewed thoughtfully on the end of her quill before responding. "Well, I was thinking about just that and neither of those really addresses the second part of that stanza. What does, '_what once was old will again be new'_ mean? I just don't understand it… These ideas make sense and all, but they don't encompass the second half of the first part… We'll come back to that," Hermione trailed off as her thoughts grew deeper.

"Let's move on, then. '_Black and White will become Grey_.' That is obviously the Death Eaters and the Order. Right?" Ron asked skeptically.

Hermione, disagreed, however. "I was thinking that it might mean the preconceived notions of the laws regarding the status of Muggle-borns and Muggles in wizarding society. They are horribly persecuted by outdated prejudices."

Malfoy nodded but didn't agree automatically like the rest of them. Ron was upset to see that the Slytherin was the only one of the bunch thinking on a deeper level about the prophecies. He even believed Hermione to be impressed with Malfoy's ideas.

Malfoy leaned back in his chair. His voice was slow and proud as he spoke. "That's great and all, but I really don't think you've quite hit on it, yet. My mother's name was Black. Lucius obviously wasn't my real father, but he is the only one I've known, and what if he was the 'White' mentioned in the prophecy? Hell, 'White' could be my birth father's name for all I know. I never met the bloke. So, if that were true, then I'd be the 'Grey' mentioned in the prophecy."

Hermione was obviously proud of him for his train of thought, and it really tried Ron's temper.

"Draco, that's brilliant! And Lucius even mentioned his attempts at molding you into the symbol of his cause. That would work with the second part of that stanza. I can't believe I didn't think of that myself! It's so obvious… 'Black' clearly could refer to the Black family! But, let's not discount the other possibilities. The real answer could be none of these that we've said. It could be something else entirely…"

Ron was annoyed at Hermione's exuberance concerning Malfoy. He quickly tried to change the subject.

"So, what's the next part? I can't remember…" he asked.

"'_In the deepest dark a spark is born,_'" she replied quietly, and Ron suppressed the urge to groan aloud.

Malfoy was the one who cut in, however, and steered the conversation from that particular line. "I think that one is the most self-explanatory. We don't even need to get into it, do we," he said. He didn't ask, and his tone didn't brook any sort of reply.

Ginny wasn't willing to back down off of this one, and pushed the issue, much to everyone's mortification. Her tone was teasing as she grilled Malfoy. "Well, I'm not sure that I understand completely. Malfoy, does that mean that you will feel a certain 'spark' for someone? Or maybe you're just going to set a fire, or something?" she teased.

Ron resisted the urge to hit his sister, and was very close to acting on his instinct. It was Hermione's bright red blush that eventually did him in. He retreated in silence, more annoyed now than before.

"I honestly haven't any idea what it could mean, Weasley. Your guess is as good as mine, well maybe not quite as good…" he replied viciously.

Hermione interjected and tried to steer the conversation back toward the prophecy. "It could be that the spark is Draco himself… He came from a Dark family and his heart was torn as to what to believe. But he rejected it. He's here with us, and maybe he doesn't want to be, but what matters is that he's _here_. I don't know; it's just a thought."

Ron watched her carefully and realized suddenly that she didn't reciprocate the feelings that he had for her. It weighed heavily on him, that loss. But, she believed in Malfoy and maybe that was enough for him to believe in him, too. _Maybe_. She was looking hard at Malfoy who, for his part, remained motionless and quiet on the other side of the room.

"Let's just skip to the next part, shall we? '_What will be lost will come again. But it will be where it had not been.'_ I don't even have the foggiest notion what that could mean… It says 'what will be lost' meaning that we haven't lost it yet. Any ideas what that could mean?" she asked.

"No clue," Malfoy said quietly.

"I don't know either," was Ginny's response.

Ron was sulking and didn't say anything.

Hermione turned toward Harry for his opinion. "Harry, you haven't said anything in awhile. What are your thoughts?"

"I don't know, Hermione. Um… What could Malfoy lose?" Harry said quietly. "And why would it come back to someplace it wasn't before? I don't know, Hermione. I don't really see how this is helping."

"No, Harry, this is really good, for all of us. We're sharing ideas and trying to figure out what all this means… We have to do this eventually and the sooner the better, in my opinion," Hermione replied. "But, I understand your frustration. Let's not worry about the prophecies right now, let's move on to the death threats."

There was a collective groan as everyone dreaded the thought of going over all of this even one more time. Ron personally wanted to run from the room and hide all weekend behind his bed-curtains. Hermione stood firm, however and wouldn't let any of them try to get out of the discussion.

"Now, we all know that Voldemort only knows about the first part of Harry's prophecy. So, presumably, he doesn't have any clue about Draco's." Hermione stated quickly.

It was Draco who caught on first… much to Ron's disappointment.

"So, what you are saying is that the incident with Nott was unrelated to the prophecy… I'm not so sure," Draco replied, appearing to still be thinking hard.

"I still don't believe it was just a personal vendetta against you, Draco. I think the Voldemort wanted to get rid of you because of the names you gave the Ministry at your hearing this summer. Plus, you inadvertently killed his right hand man, and basically removed yourself from the group. Your mother's threat is also unrelated. She is just trying to protect her family. Voldemort only knows about Harry's ability to kill him," Hermione said.

"But, you're forgetting one thing, Granger, and that is what Lucius said right before he died. Don't you remember? He called me the Half-Blood Prince. And then said that the Dark Lord knows everything," Draco said quietly. "He knows, Hermione. Somehow he found out…"

The room suddenly drowned with the tension. A strange look, very similar to the one she'd had in the hospital after the kidnapping, appeared on her face. It pained Ron to see her like that, so broken looking and fragile. Malfoy didn't look much better, and for the first time Ron actually felt a small amount of sympathy for him. He didn't know what to do with that information and was confused by his reaction. So, he did the only thing he could think to do. Complain.

"My arse is getting sore sitting here… and I'm hungry. Can we take a break or something… come back later, or better yet, tomorrow?" he asked pleadingly.

Hermione broke out of her trance-like state and looked at the rest of them for confirmation, before finally gave in. "Okay, fine. I think we could all do with a nice break. Why don't we go down to dinner and meet back up in the Library?"

Ginny nodded eagerly and Harry appeared relieved. Ron didn't bother to notice what Malfoy's opinion was, instead he jumped up and practically ran to the Great Hall for dinner. Ginny and Hermione followed Ron out, though not at such a brisk pace. Harry had almost left the room when Malfoy's voice called him back.

"Potter, can I talk to you for a minute?"

* * *

A/N: I hope this wasn't too confusing or anything. I have to be honest and say that they've hit the main points of some of the prophecies, but on the whole, they've missed quite a bit. They'll be figuring it all out in the next few chapters... We'll see how it goes for them. Expect bad things for our heroes... Sorry.

As always, I'd appreciate a review or kind word. If you want to join the update list, send me an email or visit my Live Jurnal site, http/ Thanks for reading! Taigan


	22. Chapter Twentyone: The Protection Charm

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Twenty-one: The Protection Charm

"Come on, Hermione… This is pointless. We aren't going to find anything here. This kind of stuff isn't written down in books," Ron whined.

"Just give me a few more minutes, Ron, please. Then we can go down to dinner. I just know that there's something here," Hermione whispered distractedly before turning back to the stacks. "The answer must be here somewhere!"

"Face it, Granger, not every problem can be solved in the Library. Now, as much as I've enjoyed the last several hours we've spent pouring over these dusty tomes, I've got to admit, and I promise to curse any of you should this ever get repeated, but I happen to agree with the Weasel. This is a pointless waste of my time. I'm hungry. It's dinnertime. I'm leaving," Draco pronounced defiantly.

He was leaning against one of the bookcases, his eyes on his fingernails as he checked them for dust and dirt. Hermione snapped the book she held closed. Harry and Ginny had long since retreated to a nearby table where they sat, patiently waiting, for Hermione to realize the futility of the search. She was determined, however, and refused to leave until Madame Pince kicked her out.

Fed up with their childish behavior, she rounded on them. "This is not pointless! Harry's future is not pointless! And yours isn't either, for that matter!" she quietly screeched out, her gaze settling momentarily on Draco. "If you think that dinner is more important than trying to figure this out, then by all means, go!"

"They're serving fried sausages and lamb chops tonight, and I don't plan on missing it for this fool's errand," Draco replied smoothly, before looking up from his fingernails at Hermione. "I'll see you around, Granger. I'm out of here."

She missed the long look that passed between Harry and Draco.

"Fine, Malfoy, leave! Thanks for nothing!" Hermione hissed. She turned quickly to Ron and saw his pleading look of hunger, and all but yelled, "Oh, just go, Ron!"

She looked quickly over her shoulder at Ginny and Harry. "You two can leave if you want, as well. I can do this just fine on my own," she said stubbornly.

Ginny looked at Harry, but he softly pushed her toward the door. "You go with Ron. Make sure he doesn't try to hex Malfoy in front of a teacher or something. I'll stay here with Hermione. I'll be down in a bit."

Ginny looked torn. Part of her obviously wanted to stay with Harry and the other wanted desperately to get away from the monotony of the Library. Hermione didn't blame her; with the hours she'd required of them, she was surprised they hadn't committed mutiny yet.

For the better part of a week, Hermione had asked the rest of them to spend as much time as their schedules would allow pouring over books in the Library. Her search for something that linked the two prophecies had, thus far, proved futile. But, Hermione was determined. The answer was just there, under the surface, and she'd been unable to uncover it. It was bothering her immensely that she couldn't figure it out. No wonder everyone was getting annoyed with her. They had realized the truth long ago, a truth that she had pointedly ignored in foolish hope that she'd find _something_. Hermione hated to admit that she was wrong… and even more than that, hated to admit that she couldn't solve the problem using a book. But, what else could she do?

Ginny said a quiet, regretful goodbye to Hermione and Harry before following quickly after her brother. Harry turned towards her, then, his face a mask of emotions.

"Thanks for staying, Harry. I'm glad at least one of you is concerned with the utter mystery of your two prophecies," she said dryly.

"We're all trying, Hermione. It's just so damn hard to figure this out when we have basically nothing to go off of. We're shooting in the dark, that's all. Everybody is just as frustrated as you are," Harry replied quietly.

"Oh, I know that. It's just that I can't manage this if I'm not trying _something_. This way, even if it does seem pointless, at least I'm doing something. It's helping me cope, and having all my friends close to me, supporting each other, is helping, too," she said, her voice low and focused.

"We'll figure it out. I know we will. I just don't know if it'll happen in the Library. Something's telling me that the answer isn't in one of these books," he said as he flipped through the pages of a book titled, "_Protective Charms & Their Practical Uses_."

"Nevertheless, I can't discount this information until I've exhausted it. If we don't find the answer here specifically, maybe we'll get an idea from one of these books. Let's keep looking here in the Defense Spells and Charms section. I just know that there's something here… somewhere," she said, her attention already diverted to the rows of books in front of her.

"Look, Hermione. There's something important I need to talk with you about," Harry said hesitantly, trying to coax her from the books.

"Well, what is it?" she asked impatiently, eager to return to her research.

Harry shuffled on his feet before her and ran a hand through his unruly hair. He didn't make eye-contact. "It's about Malfoy…"

She dropped the book down to the stack of other books she'd piled on the floor, and turned to face him, an expression of confusion and fear on her face. "What? Is he alright? He just left a few minutes ago… Did Ron do something? Did something happen!"

"He's fine, Hermione. Sadly."

"Oh. You had me worried there for a minute," she replied, relief evident in her voice. "Well, what is it?" she asked when he hesitated.

"You know that I don't like him. You know that Ron doesn't like him…"

"I'm well aware of that fact. But, can't you see that he's changed? He's really trying. All week he's helped us, even though you and Ron have been absolutely horrible to him. You've got to admit that he's been trying, at least."

"I know that but that doesn't mean that I trust him," he paused. "But, I trust you. And if you think that he's changed, then I'm willing to work with him."

"Oh, Harry! That's so wonderful-"

"This does NOT mean that I like him, cause frankly I don't. But, we're all stuck in this together, and if this is the only way that I can figure out how to defeat Voldemort, then I'm willing to work things out with Malfoy. Even though he's an arrogant git and I'll probably never be friends with him."

"Really, I think that's very mature of you to put your differences aside like this. You won't be disappointed," she replied happily, then regretting the tone of her voice that made it sound like she was trying to convince him of the fact. Then a look of interest crossed her face and she asked, "What caused this change of heart, Harry?"

"After the meeting in the Room of Requirement last week, he asked me if we could talk for a minute. I guess it didn't really hit me until then just how much he'd already lost going into this. I mean, his dad was killed, and that is hard enough to go through without the knowledge that he's responsible for it. And then, finding out his real heritage and discovering that the life he'd always led was a lie. I mean, that really struck home with me, since that's basically what happened to me when I got my Hogwarts letter… And then, his prophecy and not knowing whatever the hell it means… It's just he's got a lot going on… and he's still finding time to worry about _you_. I never thought he'd be the type to worry for anyone but himself."

"What do you mean he's worried for me?"

"That's what he wanted to talk about after the meeting…"

* * *

_The Previous Week in the Room of Requirement:_

"Potter, can I talk to you for a minute?" Malfoy asked before Harry could walk out the door.

Harry hesitated before nodding and quickly shutting the door before Hermione or Ginny noticed his absence. He turned around to face Malfoy slowly, unsure of what the other boy could possibly want to talk about that they hadn't already gone over in the meeting. "So, what's this about, Malfoy?"

"It's no secret that I hold no warm fuzzy feelings for you, Potter. And it's obvious that you don't like me, either… though, I must say, I _am_ remarkably easy to get along with. Look, I don't want to become best mates with you, and certainly not with Weasley, but I'm willing to ignore you and try to get along in the sense of me pretending that you don't exist."

"How thoughtful of you," Harry replied tersely.

"Listen, I'm not doing this for _you_ or for me. This is not something that _I_ want. I would much rather have absolutely nothing to do with these little Gryffindor tea parties, but it doesn't work that way. I'm stuck with you, Potter, and you're stuck with me. For Hermione's sake, let's just try to be civil."

"Oh, so that's what this is about. You're going to pretend to get on with her friends so you can get into her knickers-"

Malfoy turned on him menacingly. "Don't you even so much as mention her knickers, Scarhead, or I'll make it to where even if you wanted to get on with a girl, you'd be incapable of performing…"

"Who do you think you are, Malfoy? What right do you have ordering me about? This is Hermione we're talking about, my best friend, not yours."

"Oh, so you're going to play that game, are you? Since she's your friend, she can't possibly want anything to do with me, is that it? You're mistaken, Potter. Open your eyes, or can't you see through all that unruly hair of yours? You can't hoard her away as yours and Weasley's little homework helper. You can't tell her who to like and who to dislike. And you certainly have no right to tell me what to do, since it looks like I'm the only one who can save your sorry arse."

"Oh, and you're basing that off your cryptic prophecy, eh, Malfoy?"

"Ahh," he growled. "This is not how I intended things to go when I asked you to talk to me…" he sighed in obvious frustration. "I've got a favor I need to ask of you."

Harry laughed. He couldn't help it. It was funny, really, thinking that Malfoy had a favor to ask of _him_. But, his curiosity was peaked. "So, what is it then?"

"It's about Hermione," he started, but Harry cut him off.

"There's no way that I'm going to help you get together with her-"

"Oh, just shut up, will you! I'm not asking you to put in a good word for me! I'm not daft, don't mistake me for the Weasel. I'm just concerned about her safety. That's the whole reason I'm in here talking to you," he said angrily.

Harry was surprised at Malfoy's forcefulness and he was still intrigued. "Well, what is this favor, then?"

"I want you to give her this. I don't know if she'd accept it from me right now, to be honest," Malfoy said as he pulled a little black velvet pouch from a pocket in his robes.

Harry looked at it skeptically and took it when Malfoy offered it reluctantly. He pulled the little drawstring pouch open and hesitantly dumped its contents into the palm of his hand. He raised his eyes to Malfoy's in question.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and shifted on his feet. "It's a protection charm. I had it made shortly after receiving the letter from Mother. Oh, close your gob, Potter. It's just a bit of jewelry."

But it wasn't just 'a bit of jewelry.' It must have cost a tidy sum. Harry had never seen anything like it, not that he had much experience with women's jewelry. He honestly was having trouble wording a response. "It's green," he said, the awe in his voice unmistakable and Harry kicked himself for it.

"Yeah, I was pretty sure you'd say that. It's called an emerald, Potter," he replied sarcastically. "I had a red one done up, too, just in case you wouldn't give this one to her on account of the color," he said as he pulled another pouch from the depths of his pocket. He handed this one over wordlessly.

Harry again dumped the contents of the pouch into his hand warily. Sure enough, this one was nearly identical to the other one, except that this one had a red stone. Harry's brow wrinkled together. "I'm not sure I get this. What's the point, they're just necklaces."

Malfoy sighed audibly and for a moment, Harry was reminded of Hermione's reaction to his or Ron's asking an inane question. "There are spells worked into the stone and the setting and the gold. Strong magic. That's what took me so long to have them done. I ordered them the day after I received the letter, and that was well over a week ago. The stones themselves don't cost too much, and neither does the gold for the chain or the setting. The bulk of the cost comes from the actual spell-casting. And it was even harder because I ordered two."

"And you want me to give these to Hermione? What makes you think I would do something like that for you?"

"It's simple really, Potter. I would have thought you'd have caught on, that's why I didn't ask to speak with the Weasel," he said lightly, then sighed. "I don't know what Mother has planned, but whatever it is, it can't be good. I just want to make sure that she's safe."

"But, Dumbledore put up wards and stuff all over the castle. As long as she's here at Hogwarts she'll be fine."

"That's the thing, isn't it, Potter. She's not likely to be _in_ the castle when the fighting begins, because she's always chasing off after _you_ to make sure nothing happens to Dumbledore's Golden Boy. I just want to make sure that no matter where she is, she's safe. I don't trust Dumbledore's wards, anyway."

Even though Harry didn't like what Malfoy was saying, he had to agree with the logic. Hermione really wasn't likely to be in the castle when the fighting began, and whose fault was that? _Mine_. He started to feel the guilt gnawing away at his conscience.

"I don't know, Malfoy…" Harry replied hesitantly.

"Take them to Flitwick if you feel like having them tested. He'll be able to tell you that they're legitimate."

"Why can't you give them to her yourself?"

"Because, the last time I tried giving her anything she accused me of trying to 'buy her off!' If they're coming from you then she can't get mad at me. Plus, you've got the money to buy this sort of thing, too, don't you? You could just make her think that you bought them instead of me. That way, you're still the hero, I'm not trying to buy forgiveness, and she's protected. See, Potter, it's a win-win situation all around."

Harry spent a moment trying to decide what to do. He didn't really want to help Malfoy, but he did want to protect Hermione. "Fine, I'll take them to Flitwick. But, I'm not promising anything," Harry said finally.

Malfoy smiled and Harry didn't even think the blonde boy realized it. "Good. I knew you'd do the right thing. You Gryffindors, always so foolishly noble," he said and seeing Harry's scowl, replied, "Sorry. Habit. Just let me know what you plan on doing. If you decide not to give them to her, then I'll have to come up with something else."

Then the other boy swept out of the room leaving Harry standing in the middle of the Room of Requirement with his hands filled with the jewelry. He quickly replaced the necklaces into their individual pouches and hid them away in his pockets.

Harry was surprised at Malfoy's request. He'd never thought that the other boy would be concerned with anyone other than himself. He was still unsure about what to do, but at that moment, it didn't matter because it was dinner time and he was hungry.

The next afternoon he had time to go see Flitwick about the charms. But he chose to spend his free time playing Wizarding Chess with Ron in the Common Room. The entire time, he could feel the weight of the jewelry in his pocket and it distracted him from his game. Ron easily beat him within the first half-hour.

The following night they had Quidditch practice and that gave him enough excuse not to take the necklaces by Flitwick's office. But when practice let out early on account of Ron's head connecting with the goal post, he again had no excuse. Instead he asked Hermione if she wanted to do some research in the library on the prophecies. Ginny had joined them happily and the evening was spent again discussing the possibilities of the individual prophecies. Hermione asked if they could invite Malfoy but none of them had any idea where he might have been.

By the third day, he'd run out of excuses. Hermione was spending every free second she had in the Library. Sometimes with Malfoy, but usually not. It seemed that the Slytherin was trying to stay away until Harry decided what to do.

That's why he was surprised when he was practically accosted in the hallway on the evening of the fourth day, as he made his way back up to the Common Room alone after dinner. Hermione had convinced Ron and Ginny to go with her to the Library and Harry had faked a headache to get out of it.

A pale hand snaked out and latched onto his arm and all but dragged him into the stairwell. Harry fidgeted as Malfoy stared him down. He didn't know why he felt so guilty.

"So, have you given it to her, then?"

"No. I've been busy and haven't had the chance to take them by Flitwick's office. I planned on doing it tomorrow-"

"Don't you get it, Potter? This isn't about you and me, and our little mutual hatred. This is about Hermione and keeping her safe. There is a war going on, Potter. Or have you forgotten?"

"I haven't forgotten, Malfoy," he snapped back, his pride and sense of loyalty injured. "I'll do it tomorrow. I mean it."

"See that you do. If anything happens to her because you were too proud to do this, then you haven't the faintest idea what I would do to you. She needs to be protected. If I wasn't afraid that she wouldn't accept them from me, then I'd have given them to her myself."

"I'll do it, Malfoy. Tomorrow. I'll let you know how it goes," he said. He was surprised at the tone of his voice. Malfoy was worried and nervous and that made Harry nervous, too.

"Fine. See you around, Potter."

"Malfoy, we're all meeting up in the library tomorrow after classes," Harry said before he could really think about it. He instantly regretted it.

"Fine. Just don't forget about the charms," he said as he disappeared around the curve of the staircase.

Harry made up his mind then. If Malfoy could be putting the past behind them and trying to at least be civil, then he could at least try to do the same. He started walking to Flitwick's office, hoping that the ancient professor would have made it there so quickly after dinner.

He knocked lightly on the small wooden door and almost turned to go when he heard Flitwick's squeaky voice beckoning him inside. He bent low so as to fit through the door and shuffled inside. The office was small, as was the professor. Flitwick sat behind a tiny desk and appeared to be grading papers.

"Good evening, Professor. I hope I'm not interrupting you," he said reluctantly.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all.

"Nonsense, Mr. Potter! I'm glad to help my students in any way. What can I do for you this evening?" Flitwick asked cheerfully.

Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. Finally he asked, "Would you examine something for me? I have some jewelry that I'd like your opinion on…"

Flitwick's eyes lit up and danced merrily. His hands reached forward eagerly to accept the velvet pouches that had been burning holes in Harry's pocket for four days. Carefully the professor dumped the contents of the pouches onto the surface of his desk. Harry heard a tiny squeak of excitement.

"Mr. Potter, you must really like this girl to have spent so much money on these protective charms. I've honestly never seen the like," he said in awe.

Harry fidgeted again. "I uh… They're not… Well, you see, Professor… Yeah." He said finally, his face he knew to be as red as Ginny's hair.

"Come here, Mr. Potter. Let me show you," Flitwick requested as he beckoned with an old, wrinkled finger. Harry took the few steps closer. "The stone, by itself, has no real powers, but certain stones have an affinity for a particular charm. In this case," he said as he held up the emerald, "the emerald has an affinity for protective and healing charms. The more flawless the stone, the better it takes the charm. Emeralds can also sharpen the mind and quicken intelligence if charmed properly."

"I see," Harry said. "What about the charms themselves? How strong are they?"

"Well, Mr. Potter, I believe that you got what you paid for. These are very strong and while they can't exactly prevent an Unforgivable, they can shield the wearer from the brunt of the curse. In this case, the charms are sensitive to only the initial wearer, so they would only protect the first person to put them on. After the necklace goes around the first person's neck, it will only protect her, never anyone else. This is to ward away theft," Flitwick responded happily, oblivious to Harry's discomfort.

"What about the other one? The red one?" Harry asked.

"Oh, the ruby. You see, the ruby, like the emerald has an affinity for protective charms. The charms placed on this particular necklace are just as strong as those on the emerald. Really, they are about equal in terms of protective qualities. It's really up to you, or your lady friend, which one she wears," Flitwick said conspiratorially, his thick white eyebrows waggling.

"I see… Well, thanks, Professor. Glad to know the money was well spent," he said as he packed the necklaces back into their pouches. He made his way to the door again, eagerly intent on leaving. However, Flitwick's voice called him back.

"I'm not sure what you're afraid of, Mr. Potter, but these charms will certainly protect your loved ones. I'm really very impressed by your obvious desire for their safekeeping. It shows what type of man you are becoming, Mr. Potter, that you care friends to this extent," Flitwick said quietly.

Harry sighed inaudibly and nodded his head, for none of this was his doing. "Thank you, Professor."

The door shut behind him and he felt his heart, heavy in chest. Flitwick's praise was not meant for him, but for Malfoy. He wasn't responsible for any of it. If he wanted to be honest with himself, he'd acknowledge that Malfoy really did deserve some sort of credit for trying to make things work. He hadn't really tried to instigate any big fights with Ron and had actually seemed semi-friendly with Ginny. And it was obvious that he liked Hermione. And that she liked him back. That was a scary thought… It was strange to think of Hermione having romantic feelings toward anybody.

But they were all growing up, and as their current predicament showed, they were capable of handling problems as adults, as well. Except him. He'd acted immaturely all week, putting childish animosity before protecting his friends. Harry made a second decision then. He'd try to be civil toward Malfoy, and encourage Ron and Ginny to as well, if only for the sole purpose of everyone's safety. It didn't do any good for them to fight when what was needed was unity. Hadn't Dumbledore been preaching that since first year? Why did it always take a crisis to make him see the truth? Harry felt angry with himself for being so blind.

With the velvet pouches tucked safely into his pocket, he strode back to Gryffindor Tower with purpose and determination for the future. He would make things work. He would see that the feelings between Malfoy and himself would not jeopardize his friend's futures, as it already had with Hermione that summer. He would ensure that nothing like that would happen again, if he was capable of preventing it.

* * *

"So, that's what happened," Harry said quietly, after relaying the events of the previous week to Hermione.

Hermione stood absolutely still, a book still clutched tightly in her fingers. Finally, after considerable effort, she looked up at him. "And you still have the charms? They're in your pocket? You've been carrying them around all week?"

Harry sighed and scratched at the side of his face, his mouth contorted in a guilty scowl. "Yeah, do you want them now?"

She couldn't decide. Of course she wanted them. But it was strange taking jewelry from Harry, even if it was really from Draco. Slowly she nodded her head. Harry reluctantly pulled two black velvet pouches from a pocket in his robes and handed them over. She felt the weight shift from his palm to her own.

She didn't open them. She couldn't. Draco hadn't given them to her, yet. She wouldn't open it until he had given it to her himself. She was not accepting jewelry through a messenger. Even if it was Harry. In all truth, she was touched at Draco's thoughtfulness. And a little excited. It was a rather romantic gesture, after all…

Slowly, Hermione dropped the pouches down into the pocket of her own robes and smiled up at Harry. He was still staring at her, a mixture of guilt and determination on his face. Upon seeing her reassuring smile, he laughed quietly and rolled his eyes.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Malfoy would ask me the favor of delivering expensive jewelry to my best friend. Next thing you know, pigs will fly through the Great Hall at Christmas, and Snape will ask us to tea…" he said jokingly. Then the smile dropped from his face and he got quiet again. "I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you. I'm just having trouble adjusting to the idea of Malfoy being… well, nice. And especially nice to you. I think he likes you, you know…"

"Really? You think so? I don't know, Harry…" she asked, attempting to disguise the hopefulness in her voice.

Harry laughed. "Oh, come on, Hermione. He buys you expensive jewelry laced with the strongest protection charms that money can buy, and then he not only buys one, but two, so that you can pick which one you want… Most blokes will settle for a date at Madame Puddifoots. Not Malfoy. No, he's got to do everything bigger and better than everybody else at Hogwarts. I'm actually quite worried, cause he's certainly set the bar pretty high for the rest of us."

She laughed and felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, no doubt staining them a vivid red. "Stop it, Harry. You're teasing me!"

"I know," he said happily. Then his voice lowered and took on a more serious tone. "Just be careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt. I would have done the same thing for you and Ginny had I thought of it myself."

She quickly pulled him in for a tight, reassuring hug. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." She pulled back from the embrace and smiled conspiratorially at him. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask you… What's going on with you and Ginny?"

A look of morbid horror crossed his face and he turned rather purple.

She laughed. "You know, there are two of these things… you still have the opportunity of giving one to her. That is, if Malfoy doesn't get to her first."

His expression changed, then. It turned from purple to jealous and protective in a matter of moments. He still hadn't said anything.

"It's not too late, you know, Harry," she teased. Then she panicked. "Oh, no! What time is it! My goodness, dinner is almost over! I've got to go thank Draco! Harry, I'll see you later in the Common Room. You'll put these books away won't you? Thanks. See you!"

And she practically ran from the Library down to the Great Hall, leaving Harry staring after her confusedly.

* * *

A/N: I'm really really sorry to end it there... But, the good news is that I've already got half of Chapter 22 done and I'm pretty sure that most of you will be quite happy by the end of it. The bad news is that my beta is on vacation. Well, that's bad news for you and me, but good news for her. She'll be back next Thursday, and I'm really nervous about Ch. 22, so I won't post it until she goes over it... This will be my first experience with a genuinely romantic scene, so bear with me.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and while it may seem like a filler chapter to some of you, this is actually really important to the overall storyline. If you have any guesses about what the prophecy means, please let me know. I'm really curious to see what you think. Please leave a review!


	23. Chapter Twentytwo: The First Floor Corri...

A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers! In response to the question posed by Makdiaz, why would Dumbledore have Draco and Harry include Ron and Ginny in the discussion about the prophecies. Well, here is why: obviously Draco and Harry don't get along. Hermione can act as a mediator between the two, but Dumbledore knows that Harry would tell Ron or Ginny about the prophecies anyway. Since both prophecies are mildly cryptic, they need combined brain power to figure out what they mean. In the scene in the RoR you can see the ideas bouncing off of each other, sparking new ideas. Yes, it does isolate Draco, but that is also a way for me, the writer, to showcase his feelings about working with the Gryffindors and is a way for them to get used to working with him...

As for the question posed by lokisatoshi, Draco's prophecy is original, and yes, I did come up with it myself. There is a line in it, "as the Old Moon Fades into the new," from the Zero 7 song called Destiny. This is also where the title for the story came from. If you have ideas about what you think the prophecy means please send them to me through email or leave them in a review! I'm very curious to see what some of you think it means.

Thanks to Professor Mary for her beta skills!

As always, enjoy the chapter. Sorry about the delay, I really wanted to make this perfect. I hope it meets your expectations...

* * *

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Twenty-two: The Second Floor Corridor

Finally Hermione made it to the Great Hall. Her legs ached from the brisk pace she'd set on her journey from the Library. She deliberately slowed down as she neared the huge doors and tried to quiet her breathing. Nervously she pulled on her robes and attempted to smooth down her thick hair before opening the door widely. She felt rather odd walking toward the Slytherin table instead of the Gryffindor one. And it appeared that everyone else thought that was odd, too. The Hall was silent once word had gotten round that Hermione Granger was seeking out a Slytherin. And not just any Slytherin, but presumably Malfoy.

Hermione scanned the rows of chairs and faces at the Slytherin table, searching for Draco. Finally she spotted him. He was about halfway down the table sitting between Crabbe and Goyle. He was watching her, an amused smirk dancing on his face. He was eating this whole thing up. The entire Hall, students and professors included, had their eyes trained on her as she picked her way around the tables and maneuvered toward Draco. He was openly smirking and had leaned back in his chair to better observe her plight. His food had long since been abandoned in favor of this more enjoyable and ego-boosting activity. She could've smacked him. She felt her cheeks color again, but held her head high and continued walking toward him, ignoring the stares and whispers of the other students.

After what had seemed an eternity, she was close enough. Painfully aware of the other students and her own embarrassment, she spoke quietly to the gathered group of Slytherin students. "Sorry to interrupt your dinner, but I was hoping that I could have a word with Draco for a moment. It won't take long, I promise."

Crabbe and Goyle seemed surprised and Blaise Zabini looked on with interest. Pansy was several chairs down with the rest of the female Slytherins, and was glaring at her hatefully. Draco, for his part, seemed quite content in his arrogance. His smirk became even more pronounced and his eyes shone brightly in unmasked amusement. The irony of the situation became blatantly obvious when she remembered the week that Draco had spent flooding Gryffindor table with presents, and now here she was trying to get Draco's attention. It seemed that he was going to make use of this opportunity to gloat.

"What's this about, Granger?" he asked mirthfully.

Oh, bother. "Well, you see, _Malfoy_. I just got through talking with Harry, and he relayed to me the details of the conversation you two had last week. I was hoping that I could speak to you about it," she said as she patted her pocket.

He nodded briskly, his good mood gone, annoyed at having his conversation with Harry brought up in front of the Slytherins. He made his quick goodbyes to his friends and stood up beside her, angrily latching onto her elbow and pulling her from the Great Hall. As the doors slammed shut behind them, Hermione could hear the whispers turn to shouts as the Great Hall erupted with commotion. _Honestly, were the Hogwarts students really that low on gossip?_

Draco was still pulling her further away from the Hall to prevent any eavesdroppers and to ensure their privacy. Hermione felt her heart pounding against her rib cage. The sound of blood in her ears was so loud that she couldn't hear anything else. She didn't think she'd ever been as nervous as she was at that moment. She clenched her hands together, hoping to mask the uncertainty she felt at being alone with him.

He pulled her behind him, up the staircase and down the quiet corridor of the first floor. His private room was just a few doors down from where they stood. The corridor was empty, as it usually was in the evenings, and she felt as if she could hear the echo of her heart beating against the stone walls.

Draco was annoyed. That much was obvious, but she didn't care since she was so anxious just being alone with him. He was staring at her angrily, his eyes dark and full of unspoken emotions. When he finally did speak, his voice was thick and heavy, and much angrier than she thought it had any right to be.

"Don't ever do that again. Don't bring up my relationship with Potter at the Slytherin table," he shouted. "I can't believe that you did that!"

"I was just trying to get you to come with me. I didn't think-"

"No, that's right. You didn't think! I just got things sorted out with the Slytherins and you had to go and fuck it all up again!" he yelled as his fists clenched unconsciously. He spun away from her and took a few steps back toward the staircase.

"Don't do this… Don't ruin this for me…" she sighed in frustration, her excitement giving way to anger and disappointment.

He turned back around and faced her, his eyes again piercing and angry, but also confused, now. "What are you going on about, Granger?"

Slowly, without taking her eyes off of him, she pulled the thick pouches from her pocket and held them out to him. His eyes dropped quickly to them and then back to her face.

"Potter was supposed to give you those," he said coldly. He still hadn't reached forward to take them.

"I know that. But, I didn't want him to give them to me," she said quietly, her hand still held out in front of her.

"Are you daft, woman? They're for your own protection! I'm not trying to 'buy you off' or anything, I'm just trying to help you! Why the hell wouldn't you want them?" he shouted in aggravation. He stepped forward quickly and thrust the velvet encased jewelry inside one of his pockets.

"Because, you idiot, I wanted _you_ to give them to me, not Harry," she said equally as aggravated as he was, now. "And don't swear."

He didn't say anything in response, other than a quiet "Oh." The look of surprised confusion quickly gave way to an arrogant smirk. "I see. And so you busted up your study group, came all the way to the Great Hall, and braved the Slytherin table just to tell me that… Hmm," he said haughtily.

"There's no need to make fun of me about it."

"Yeah, there is," he replied. When he saw that she did not find it as equally amusing as he did, he rolled his eyes and took a step closer. "Oh, come on, Granger. It's just that you look so cute when you're mad at me."

She felt the blood rush back to her face again.

"Stop all that smirking, it's making me nervous," she said when he took another step closer.

"Are you sure that's what's making you nervous?" he asked quietly, the smirk gone, replaced with a look of such intensity that Hermione felt her knees weaken.

Neither of them spoke for a several long seconds. Finally, he pulled the pouches from his pocket again. "So, it's alright if I give you one of these? You won't be offended? I really just wanted to make sure you were safe."

She nodded slowly, unable to word a response.

"Alright, which one?"

She hesitated. "I don't know. I didn't look at them. Just give me the one you originally wanted to give me."

He nodded curtly and opened one pouch, then the other in search of the one he wanted. He dropped one into his pocket and held the other out to her. But she shook her head and didn't take it. Silently, he pulled the necklace from the depths of the velvet and held it out in the palm of his hand. The emerald shimmered in the torchlight and winked up at her. It was beautiful.

She finally found her voice and quietly asked, "Will you help me put it on?"

Instead of replying he stepped up close to her, the front of his robes lightly grazing her chest. The emerald was clenched tightly in his fist and the chain dripped from between his fingers as he slowly began pushing Hermione's robes off her shoulders, and then loosened her tie. He was so close, his face mere inches from her own. Her heart was now pounding and her breathing had become erratic. Unconsciously she inhaled the scent of him. Pepper and exotic spices. She vaguely made the connection that he smelled as beautiful as he looked.

She was startled back to awareness when she felt his fingers at her throat, unbuttoning the top button of her blouse. Her fingers met his almost instantly.

"Wait. No, let me do that," she whispered.

Her hands were shaking as she fumbled with the top button and then the one below it. His hands were still at her throat and she was distantly aware that he was shaking slightly, too.

When her throat and neck were almost totally exposed, he lifted her hair off her shoulder and pushed it back. The chain dropped down between them as he held the two open ends in his hands. Draco leaned even closer, if that were possible, and she felt his fingers slide across to the back of her neck. She was so afraid that he would be able to feel the erratic pulsing of blood in her throat, but was comforted by the trembling of his fingers as they worked slowly on the clasp. His face was close to hers, too close to be perfectly comfortable, as it was turned to better see her neck in the semi-darkness of the corridor. She could feel his breath just below the column of her throat.

Finally, he managed to close the clasp. Draco's fingers skimmed the length of the chain as it settled more comfortably against her skin. She felt his grip on the emerald as he dropped it on top of her shirt.

But, his face was still entirely too close and she could feel his breath against her skin. She didn't want him to move away and yet she very much wanted to be alone within her own space. But she couldn't get her feet to obey her brain. And she couldn't get her voice to work in order to tell him to back away.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything to make the uncomfortable and unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach disappear, but when she felt his lips on the side of her throat, Hermione realized that any attempt at communication was just not going to happen.

His mouth was soft on the skin of her throat and through the haze of her brain, she felt his hands reaching around her waist and pulling her body closer to his. She didn't think it possible, but the pounding of blood in her ears grew even louder, so loud in fact, that it disappeared, and all she was aware of was the sound of his breathing and the scent of his black robes.

Her own fingers clenched onto his forearms as she sought to steady herself and she exhaled slowly, afraid of losing the feeling of being so close to him.

His voice was so quiet and so full of emotion that she thought she would disappear into it. "Is this alright?"

She couldn't see him. Her eyes were shut tightly and she could feel his lips moving against her neck as he spoke. "Hermione… Is this alright?"

She could feel him pulling back, presumably to look at her, or maybe he'd simply realized what a horrible mistake he'd just made. All she was really aware of was that he wasn't as close as she wanted and was steadily moving further away.

Her hands clenched tightly around his arms when they tried to pull away and her eyes flew open as she whispered, "Don't stop."

He smirked and she realized that she wasn't annoyed with him for his arrogance. His mouth returned to her throat and moved so slowly and deliciously against her skin, his tongue soon joining his lips. Together they tormented her throat, biting and teasing so gently, so much more gently than she ever would have expected from him. She felt her knees weaken and she tightened her hold on his arms before hesitantly placing her hands around his shoulders. His fingers followed his mouth as it slid over the skin of her neck and up to her jaw.

Mentally she was trying to prepare herself for what she knew would ultimately be happening in just a matter of moments, but emotionally she was completely overwhelmed and nervous. The growing pit in her stomach was burning and aching, the depth of the feelings churning in her body were all at once terrifying and yet completely irresistible. Her hands slipped down from his shoulders to rest on his chest. It was oddly comforting to feel the frantic beating of his heart through his robes. She smiled at the thought of him being as equally unsure of this as she was.

"What are you smiling about, Granger?" he asked teasingly, his voice light and nonchalant, a definite contrast to the nervous heart beating beneath her fingers.

She still didn't trust her voice to work properly and shook her head in response. She could feel herself still smiling and her cheeks flooded with color at the reality of what was happening between them. Draco must have found this amusing and she felt his arms tighten around her waist. She felt him watching her and she slowly brought her eyes up to look at his face instead of the front of his robes.

She'd never really seen him smile the way he was at that moment. It was as if none of the problems that faced them existed, as if all that really mattered was what was happening between them now. And really that _was_ all that mattered to her just then. For the few moments that the two of them stood together, alone in the corridor, she could forgot about Voldemort, and the war, and the confusion of the prophecies. It seemed that everything else had faded away and all that remained was the palpable emotion smoldering between them.

Draco was still smiling as he leaned forward and brought his head down to meet hers. She felt the strength leave her body and it felt as if every nerve ending had been lit on fire. The aching feeling in her stomach expanded as his mouth moved ever closer to her own. When she felt the first brush of his lips, so soft and moist against the skin of her cheek, and felt his trembling hand at her waist as it made its way to her neck, she gave into the emotions that had been stirring for months. She'd tried to ignore the feelings that had been steadily growing since their reluctant truce at the beginning of the term. But the feelings she had for Draco were definitely hard to ignore when his mouth was so dangerously close to her own, as it was now.

They were at a precipice. It had gotten to that point in their rather unsteady friendship where they could either ignore their mutual attraction or give into it and possibly risk all that they'd worked so hard to build. Losing her friendship with Draco wasn't something she wanted, but she knew that she'd never forgive herself for not at least _trying_ to make something work with him. The possibility of not being with him was a greater threat, and one she wasn't willing to compromise on. She wanted to be with him. She _needed_ to be with him, and she desperately hoped that he wanted the same thing.

In the end, it wasn't just her wellbeing she was risking. It was Harry's and Ron's and Ginny's. And not just them, but everyone. The entire wizarding world now depended upon Harry and Draco's ability to work together to figure out the mystery of their prophecies. It would make that battle even harder if there was animosity between them on her account. She didn't want that. She didn't want to be the reason that they couldn't forge an alliance. She didn't want to be the driving force in their hostility.

Draco must have sensed her sudden hesitation because she felt his grip tighten on her shoulder. The hand at the back of her neck was warm and she felt the loss when it pulled away.

"Out with it, Granger. What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked quietly. His face was a puzzle of thoughts; she tried to read it, to gain some sort of insight, but she hadn't learned all his expressions and couldn't properly categorize them. The distance between them suddenly seemed much greater than it really was. He sounded so hesitant and disappointed when he spoke again. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No. I was just thinking about how this – us – changes things. I mean, unless I'm reading this all wrong," she rushed out uncertainly. Her fingers flexed unconsciously on the front of his robes and her voice was decidedly weaker sounding than she had intended.

He sighed heavily and rubbed her shoulder gently. "Of course this changes things. That's the whole point," he said.

Hermione took a deep breath but he was speaking quickly now, and she knew that he didn't want to be interrupted…

"We don't know what might happen tomorrow or even twenty minutes from now."

Hermione searched his blazing gray eyes, wondering how he seemed to be able to pull the very words from her thoughts.

He looked right into her soul as he spoke, his words calming her nerves. "As far as we know _now_, this moment, is the only time we have. I don't know what the future holds for us, any of us, but I can tell you for certain that it won't be easy. And if right now is the only time that I have with you, then I'm going to take it. If there's one thing I've learned from all this it's that you can't take anything for granted. We could die tomorrow or fifty years from now, either way I want to know that I took advantage of every second that I had with you, Hermione. I'm tired of wasting time."

And he kissed her.

She felt all of his urgency and uncertainty. His passion and hesitation. Anger and Determination. Desire. She felt all these things and poured her own feelings into that kiss. Fear. Hope. Trust. Salvation. And she prayed that he felt them, too.

His hand on her neck was deliciously warm and his heart under her fingertips was beating proudly. Draco's lips were greedy as they stole the breath from her body, and giving as they emptied his emotions into her heart.

The intensity of the kiss increased as she felt his hand wrap more tightly around her waist as his other teased the tiny curls at the back of her neck. Her fingers slid through his hair as he pressed himself closer to her body. He nibbled tauntingly at her lower lip before his tongue sought entrance to her mouth.

He coaxed her lips apart and her head swam with a dizzying rush of feeling as she felt the first caress of his tongue. It was warm and moist as it meshed with hers, sending ripples of longing to pool in her stomach. She sank against him and he responded by groaning deep within his throat. His hand clenched onto her hair and shifted her head back, leaving her mouth open for his assault. She pulled him down to her and moaned softly as he redoubled his efforts with his tongue. She felt all the oxygen leave her body and a light-headed feeling took over, drowning her temporarily in his warmth.

When they pulled apart it was only out of sheer necessity and the biological need for oxygen. Truthfully, Hermione felt she'd be willing to suffocate if it meant kissing Draco even a moment longer. It was amazing. A kiss shouldn't feel that wonderful. It left her wanting more but still too afraid to ask for it. Too afraid of the depth of her own need.

Her heart was still racing, though no longer out of nervousness, but of desire and anticipation. She kept her eyes closed, trying, even for just a few more moments, to recapture the feeling, the warmth, of his mouth. She'd never have thought that Draco would be that talented with his tongue, though it shouldn't have come as a surprise seeing as how gifted he was with it verbally. But, he'd found uses for his tongue that she hadn't even dreamt of. And they'd only been kissing… Imagine if they'd actually progressed farther than that…

_Bad, Hermione_, she chided herself mentally. _Must not think such things about Draco's tongue, no matter how talented he is with it…_

"You can open your eyes now," he whispered teasingly. "You might think about keeping them open, I'm quite good looking, you know. Or so they tell me."

She rolled her eyes and playfully pushed his shoulder. "You are good looking – for a ferret. Why else do you think I kept my eyes closed?" she retorted mischievously, hoping that she hadn't crossed a line with him.

For a moment she was afraid that he'd taken her seriously. His shoulders stiffened beneath her fingers and she saw his jaw clench tightly.

But then he laughed, a deep, rich laugh, and she knew that it was alright. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapped completely around her back, his head resting against the crown of her head. His scent enveloped her and she pressed her cheek into his chest to absorb the smell. She felt so happy, so complete, standing there with him. Laughing with him. Being with him.

His quiet voice once again broke her reverie. "Granger, I just never know what to expect to come out of your mouth. I thought I had you all figured out, but I don't. You are a complete mystery to me."

She smiled into his robes even though she knew he couldn't see it. "I do my best to keep you on your toes," she taunted. "Can't have you learning all my secrets so soon."

His voice took on that dangerously husky quality when he replied, making her knees weaken. "Oh, but how I would love coercing them out of you. That would be a pleasant way to spend the weekend, though I very much doubt that would be long enough. We'd most likely have to give up school, and while I am most willing to make that sacrifice I somehow don't think that you'd be able to tear yourself away," he said, his breath stirring her hair, leaving her scalp tingling. "There are three people in our relationship, Granger. You, me, and Madame Pince. As much as I like a good threesome, somehow Pince isn't really someone I had in mind."

She was blushing furiously by the end of Draco's little speech, unused as she was to this kind of dialogue. She knew that he'd simply been feeding off of her reaction since he'd been doing similar things for years when they fought, edging her on, judging her reactions, instigating trouble. But this time, however, her reaction was of a completely different and altogether foreign emotion. Desire. As afraid as she was of it, she had to admit, even if just to herself, that she desired Draco Malfoy.

It was impossible to deny it and even more impossible to resist. He made a fetching picture standing arrogantly in the corridor, his blonde hair nearly white in the silvery glow of the moon. He was casually and elegantly disheveled and she flushed at the realization that she had caused his hair to look as it did because her hands had run through it, her fingers had pulled on the silken strands. She thought his hair had never looked better.

What was even more attractive was the way that his collar stood up at an odd angle and how his tie now hung crookedly from his neck. His lips were pink and slightly puffy from kissing and she realized that she probably looked the same, maybe worse.

Hermione found a new and greater appreciation for Draco's smirk. It suited him when he looked like this, smug, his posture filled with casual arrogance. She wondered briefly what he saw when he looked back at her, but realized that it couldn't be that bad if the way he was staring down at her , as if she were an extravagant dessert, was any indication. But propriety called for her to be slightly mollified at her precariously open collar and nearly discarded robe. Hastily she tried buttoning her blouse back up but Draco's fingers stopped her.

"Don't. I like you this way. I know the only way you'd ever look like this is after a good snog with a bloke like me," he said happily before his smile faded slightly. His eyes narrowed and his voice took on a more serious tone. "No, wait… Me. Just me."

She knew that he was waiting for her to say, or do something, to assuage the semi-jealous curiosity he had about the status of their relationship. In all honesty, she felt the same confusion and envy regarding his former girlfriends. As far as she knew, he had a much greater experience with the opposite sex. His simple declaration was rather charming and she smiled at him in response, hoping to assure him that she wanted to be with him, too. "Just you," she responded shyly.

He smiled again, that beautiful smile that she'd seen for the first time that night. His hand slipped down her arm slowly, coming to rest just above her wrist. Draco pulled her hand up between them and brought her palm to his lips, kissing it softly.

Suddenly his eyes narrowed and his eyebrow lifted naughtily. "You didn't eat anything for dinner, did you?"

Confused, she replied, "No, I was in the Library and then came to find you."

He pulled away and reached for her hand. "We've still got some time before Filch can get us for being out too late, and everyone else is still in the Great Hall. How about a quick run to the Kitchens?"

"I'm quite hungry, now that you mention it," she said, though if the butterflies in her stomach were any indication, she doubted she could eat much.

He smiled again and tightened his grip on her hand. Hermione realized that she would follow him anywhere if he just smiled at her like that. Draco seemed unaware of the happy expression and that endeared him to Hermione even more.

They walked a few feet before Draco turned to her and said, "This will be fun, I haven't tormented the House-Elves in ages."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think of this chapter, or the story in general. If you have a guess about what the prophecy means send me an email, or leave a review detailing your thoughts. I'm very curious to see what you all think of it. Thanks for reading! Visit me at my livejournal: 


	24. Chapter Twentythree: The Study Session

A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter than normal... my apologies. School, as many of you know, has been taking up a lot of my time lately. My beta is on vacation right now and won't be back for about a week and a half, so I won't be able to update until she gets back. I am really eager to get to work on the tail end of this story, so I do plan on writing while she's gone. Hopefully I'll have a few new chapters to add once she gets back to a computer.

Thanks for all the reviews. I was so worried about how you would feel about the KISS in the last chapter, and was so happy that everyone liked it. Someone asked if there would be more scenes like that one, and the answer is YES! My beta is encouraging me to write some more romantic scenes and some more adult scenes. More about that in the A/N at the end of this chapter.

* * *

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Twenty-three: The Study Session

Hermione rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease the ache that had developed while sitting in the hard wooden chair of the Library. She was helping Ginny and Luna Lovegood prepare for the O.W.L.'s that would take place at the end of the year. Though the first term hadn't yet ended, Hermione had encouraged Ginny to begin studying as early as possible to ensure that she would receive Outstanding marks in all her courses. Ginny had asked her at the beginning of the term to help her out and Hermione had gladly consented.

They'd been reviewing the more abstract potions that Snape was less likely to cover in Potions class. Notes, empty bottles of ink, and Luna's snapped Ostrich quill littered the table. At first Hermione had been rather reluctant to invite Luna in on their study sessions, but Ginny had asked so politely, and Hermione couldn't really think of a good reason to deny her. So, there they sat, Hermione quietly dictating from her own O.W.L. study guides, Ginny occasionally posing a question but otherwise writing furiously, and Luna, having abandoned the Ostrich quill now wrote using her rather bright Flamingo quill and lime green ink. Luna's quill scratched against the surface of her rough parchment, its noise clawing at Hermione's ears, driving her to distraction.

Hermione was doing her best to ignore the Ravenclaw, but found it was difficult because of the girl's almost constant interjections.

"You know, I've found it very useful to write poems when trying to memorize a complicated Potions formula. That way you can harness the true beauty of the composition, as it was clearly intended by the Potion's creator," Luna said happily, oblivious to Hermione's annoyance.

Hermione made a conscience effort not to roll her eyes, even though she had used Luna's trick several times when studying for Arithmancy, though for the simple reason that she was more likely to remember it. "That's an interesting idea, Luna, but I really think it would be better if we all came up with poetry on our own," she said hesitantly, trying very hard not to tell the other girl to simply shut her mouth.

Ginny snorted and raised her eyebrows when Hermione glared at Luna over a precariously tall stack of parchment. Ginny shrugged her shoulder inelegantly and Hermione made a face.

She smelled his cologne before she saw him, faint and delicious in the musty air of the Library. Immediately her thoughts trailed to their activities in the corridor the night before.

"Good afternoon, ladies," came Draco's silky voice from somewhere behind her. She was surprised to feel his hand drop lightly to her shoulder before rubbing her arm affectionately. Her quill clattered to the table at the feel of his fingers. She craned her head around to smile up at him shyly and he smiled back in return. "Hermione," he said quietly. Then he turned his eyes toward Ginny and nodded at her and Luna in turn.

Ginny responded coolly, her head nodding minutely, "Malfoy."

Luna, for her part, seemed utterly unfazed by Draco's sudden appearance and languorously gazed up at him from across the table.

"I hope you took your umbrella with you when you went to the Owlery," she said absently. "It's molting season for some of the rarer breeds, you know."

Draco regarded her for a moment, an elegant eyebrow arched in puzzlement, but otherwise he didn't acknowledge her odd statement. Instead, he addressed her civilly and said, "That's an interesting quill, Lovegood, Flamingo, isn't it?"

Her head bobbed wobbly in response. "Yes, Flamingo feathers make much better quills than Peacocks, you see. Peacock quills carry a very rare disease that can cause blindness and, in some cases, infertility in males. I didn't want to infect the entire school, so I opted for Flamingo quills instead."

Hermione stifled a giggle that bubbled up into her throat. Ginny was watching Draco carefully, as if waiting for a condescending remark.

He smirked at Ginny, obviously aware of her need to protect Hermione, before addressing Luna once again, "I assume your father's done all the research into this particular disease?"

"Oh, of course! In fact, it will be front-page in the next issue. We have a civic duty to report on these things. Can't have an uninformed public, you understand."

"No, of course not," Hermione interjected quickly, eager to hear what Draco had come by to say. "Is there something you need, Draco?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously and his voice dropped a level. "I just wanted to see if you could come by my room sometime this evening. I've got something I want to show you."

"I'll bet," Ginny murmured, almost quietly.

Hermione glared menacingly at her friend and kicked her under the table. She turned to Draco and said, "That sounds lovely. Any particular time?"

"Either right before dinner or after. It shouldn't take too long."

Ginny choked at Malfoy's statement and began a round of coughing. Hermione ignored her.

"How about right after dinner? That way I have plenty of time to dispose of Ginny's body and _Oblivate_ Luna," she said irritably.

"Perfect. Let me know if you need any help. I'm quite handy with Memory Charms," he drawled.

His eyes swept over the assorted parchments and books lying open on the table. "What are you three doing right now, anyway?" he asked, his eyes resting momentarily on Luna's purple parchment. "Astrology Charts?"

Ginny gathered her Potions text closer to her chest and huffed contemptuously. "We're studying for O.W.L.'s, Malfoy. Or at least we were until _you_ showed up," Ginny hissed, her eyes resting momentarily on Draco's hand that was still rubbing circles on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione eyed her friend wearily before sending an apologetic look Draco's way. He grinned and flashed Ginny a brilliant smile before leaning over Hermione's shoulder to pick up Luna's parchment. He studied it for a moment, his grin widening with each passing second.

"Well, Weasley, it looks like you're doing a first rate job of it, if this is any indication," he said as he tossed Luna's parchment down in full view of both Ginny and Hermione. "I'm sure you'll need to know how to compose Compatibility Charts on the Potions Exam."

Hermione stared up at him in confusion while Ginny took in the contents of the parchment. Draco grinned, looking very much like a satisfied kitten.

"I'll leave you to it, ladies," he said happily before turning his attention to Hermione. His fingers trailed up her arm as if still trying to get a feel for her, and Hermione responded by hesitantly bringing her own hand up and squeezing his where it rested on her arm. He smiled slightly, in obvious smug satisfaction.

"Thanks for stopping by, Draco," she whispered.

"See you tonight, Hermione."

She turned to watch him leave, and caught Ginny's eye as he swept past a row of books. Hermione refocused her attention on the parchment sitting in front of her and was intent on figuring out just what Luna was doing during their study session besides studying, and why the parchment had made it so interesting to Draco. She had just started to pull the parchment closer, when her attention was drawn by Ginny's near violent reaction to Draco's retreat.

"What _do_ you see in him, Hermione? I just don't understand why you'd want anything to do with that nasty little ferret!" Ginny gushed, her eyes following Draco's back as he left the Library. "Coming in here like he owns the place! Honestly, does he have to be so bloody obvious! Nobody wants this rubbed in her face!" she all but yelled, keeping her voice relatively quiet in the silence of the Library.

Hermione began to wonder if Ginny's anger was really directed at Draco, or if Ginny was simply annoyed that he was being so open candid with his affection, while Harry was still oblivious to the burgeoning relationship he had with Ron's little sister. It made sense for Ginny to overreact to Hermione's new relationship out of jealousy when the object of her affection was so ignorant of her feelings for him.

Hermione started to answer, hoping to reassure her friend of her concerns, but Luna beat her to it.

"It's simple, really," Luna said dreamily, her fingers reaching forward to push the parchment closer to Ginny. "It's all in here. This is their Compatibility Chart. I drew it up earlier while you two were talking about the Draft of Peace Potion."

She felt her stomach plummet to her shoes. Was that really what it was? Merlin, what if Draco thought _she_ had been drawing up astrological charts on him. The thought was horrifying.

Her voice was unsteady and dismayed as she spoke. "Luna, what on earth are you going on about? A Compatibility Chart? Honestly. That's ridiculous. Everyone knows that Trelawney's classes are a load of rubbish. You don't really believe that astrology can determine the future, do you?" Hermione asked irritably.

Luna slowly shook her head, obviously resigned to Hermione's hatred of all things Divination. "You can say what you want, Hermione, but it's true. The stars don't tell lies. Let me show you," Luna said pointing at Hermione's name and birth date on the chart. "You're a Virgo. And see here, Draco Malfoy is a Gemini."

"Is he really? I never knew his birthday," Hermione whispered. _That's interesting. _So, he had to have a May or June birthday, she thought quickly.

Ginny cut in, scooting her chair closer to Hermione's so that they could look at the parchment together. "Well, go on Luna," she said, her eyes looking over the parchment carefully. Then she sat up and glanced at Hermione quickly. "We can spare a few minutes to figure out the reason why you and Malfoy are suddenly so perfect for each other."

"Please continue, Luna," Hermione urged, eager to hear Luna's reasoning even if she disagreed with the methodology. Even though she was dead-set against Divination, she couldn't help but be curious about Luna's findings.

Luna clutched her Flamingo quill to her chest and sighed happily. "Yes, well. Since you are a Virgo, Hermione, you are practical and have an analytical mind. You like organization and do best in positions that allow you to help people," Luna said quickly, all absentmindedness gone once she had a purpose. "Draco Malfoy, as a Gemini, is often torn in two directions. Gemini refers to the Twins that govern his mind and heart. Gemini's are very intelligent and love lively conversation. A good debate is often their greatest form of entertainment."

"Yes, this is interesting and all Luna, but really… how accurate can this be? Practically anybody could tell us that about our personalities, even if they've only known us a few minutes." Hermione said quickly.

"Don't disregard this simply because you can't explain it. You like Arithmancy, don't you? Arithmancy is simply another form of Divination. Just with numbers instead of crystal balls."

Hermione tried not to groan aloud at the comparison of her favorite subject to something as wooly and vague as Divination. Luna really had no idea what she was talking about, anyway. But she waited, hoping that Luna would continue with her explanation, all the same.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Luna continued. "Both Virgo and Gemini are ruled by the planet Mercury. Mercury itself is considered to be androgynous, and Virgo represents the Feminine side of Mercury, while Gemini represents the masculine."

"Fascinating," Hermione murmured sarcastically.

"For a relationship to work between these two signs, they must communicate with each other. Virgo can provide Gemini with a balanced emotional anchor, while Gemini can bring excitement to Virgo's rather boring life."

Ginny snickered at Luna's unintended insult. Hermione crossed her arms across her chest, sufficiently affronted.

"Virgos are very intent on their future and have a set direction that they wish to follow, while Gemini's are less focused. They follow where their mind takes them. So, as long as you and Draco communicate with each other, I think you have a good chance at making things work."

"Really, Luna, that's very interesting. But Draco and I haven't made any commitments. I mean, really, we've only even kissed that one time. It's not like he asked me to marry him or something."

"So, he _did_ kiss you? What was it like?" Luna asked, her alertness fading quickly now that her speech was over.

Hermione felt the blood rush to her cheeks since she hadn't even gone over the details with Ginny, yet. Ginny, for her part, leaned in, the Potions text she'd been skimming during Luna's tirade duly abandoned.

"Well, you see… It was, um…" she trailed, her cheeks coloring more and more by the second. "It was nice?"

Ginny chuckled at Hermione's embarrassment, her voice teasing as she said, "Is that the best you could come up with? It was nice? Really, Hermione, I thought you were more articulate than that. We want details!"

"Well, it _was_ nice," Hermione pouted. When Ginny gave her a dissatisfied look, she felt obligated to elaborate. "He um… He had just given me the protection charm and then I asked him to help me put it on… Then he kissed me. Do I have to keep going? This is horrible."

"A protection charm? What kind of charm?" Ginny asked. "No, wait… we'll go over that later. You were getting to the kiss."

"Oh, bother," she said quietly, trying to search for a description that wouldn't make her seem like a love-struck schoolgirl, when in fact, she was very much aware of just how love-struck she was.

She remembered the feel of his hands on her neck as they worked the chain's clasp closed. And the tension in her body as she felt his breath slide across her skin. His scent had been strong and dark, and it had enveloped her like a cocoon, and even now, hours later, she could still smell him. His mouth had been so hesitant and yet so resolute in its purpose. Hermione couldn't imagine ever feeling that way again, and certainly not with anyone else.

"It was that good, was it?" Ginny asked quietly, in response to the dreamy look on Hermione's face.

Slowly coming out of her stupor, Hermione turned to her friend, her eyes filled with the memory of that kiss. "Oh, Ginny, it was perfect."

"So, you really do like him, then?" she asked softly."This isn't just a passing fling, is it?"

"No, Gin, it's not. I've really come to care for Draco, and I think he feels the same way about me. We haven't talked about it much, but after that kiss… it was like I could _feel_ what he was feeling for me. It was the scariest, most wonderful sensation. I never thought that kissing someone could be like that…," she said gently.

Luna had been partially listening, her head resting precariously on the flat of her palm. "Kissing, you know, is quite good for world peace. If you can make this work with Draco, then maybe the rest of the world has a chance."

Hermione smiled at Luna, for all her kookiness, the Ravenclaw did, on occasion, make comments like that that made Hermione question just how distanced from reality Luna actually was.

"You know what, Luna, I just happen to agree with you on that. Maybe we really do have a chance."

Ginny squared her shoulders and turned to Hermione. "Well, I meant what I said; I'll support you in this, and I'll try to convince Harry and Ron to come around. As much as I hate to admit it, he does seem like he fancies you, and it's obvious that you fancy him," Ginny said decisively. "And, let's face it, you'll need all the support you can get. Because honestly, there are a lot of people rooting for this to fail."

"Don't I know it… If I can't convince Harry and Ron that Draco's alright, then how will anyone else believe it? We need to stand united in all things. We can't let these petty hatreds get in the way of what's really important. Draco and Harry need to learn how to work together if they have any hope of defeating Voldemort."

Ginny's face paled considerably at the mention of Voldemort, and Hermione immediately regretted her candor.

"Do you really think that Harry will have to face him, and you know, kill him before all this is over with?" Ginny whispered, her face a mixture of fear and resentment, a sentiment Hermione reciprocated.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, a nervous knot forming in her stomach. "I don't know. I mean, that's what it seems like, according to his prophecy. But we still don't know what Draco's prophecy means, so my guess is that anything could happen. We've got to plan for all possible situations."

"Is that why Draco got you the protection charm?" Ginny questioned.

"Well, that I guess, and the letter," Hermione answered. "He's just looking out for me, and I imagine that he saw it as an opportunity to buy me an expensive present. He's such a show-off… some things will probably never change," she said affectionately.

Ginny smiled and Hermione felt badly about rubbing her happiness in Ginny's face. "Harry would do the same thing if he could only think of it. He's very caught up right now, Gin. Just give him some time to work through his feelings. He'll come around. I know it."

Ginny groaned audibly, and her eyes rolled as she sank into her chair. "Merlin, I hope so; I'm getting so tired of waiting! I broke up with Dean when Harry came to stay with us at the Burrow after your… incident with Draco. I thought that maybe he'd notice me, finally see that I wasn't just Ron's little sister anymore."

Hermione reached over and clasped Ginny's hand in her own. "It'll happen. I know it. You can't rush these things; you have to let them run their own course. When Harry sees you as the beautiful, smart, fiery person that you are, you won't be able to keep him away."

Ginny blushed, thoroughly embarrassed by her confession, and tried to change the subject. "Enough about me! You're the one with all the news! Tell us about this mysterious protection charm that nobody thought to tell me about," she said lightheartedly.

Hermione's brow knit together in confusion. "You really didn't know? I thought Harry would have told you. He carried it around with him for a week, apparently."

Ginny shook her head and said offhandedly, "Nobody tells me anything."

Luna glanced at her sadly. "It's alright, Ginny. Nobody told me, either."

Ginny closed her eyes for a few seconds before responding patiently, "Thanks, Luna. I appreciate that."

Unsure how much she could say in front of Luna, she chose her words carefully. "Well, after getting… that letter, Draco had some charms made up for me. He gave them to Harry after I wouldn't accept any of the other gifts he sent me. Harry couldn't decide what to do with them and finally, yesterday, he told me. Then I went and found Draco… That was that scene you saw in the Great Hall at dinner. Then I gave them back to him and asked him to give them to me himself. So then he did, and he kissed me. Is that a good enough explanation for you gossipmongers?"

"Not hardly, but I know that you're too embarrassed to come up with anything better, so it'll have to suffice," Ginny said lightly. "Wait, you said 'them.' He gave you more than one?"

Hermione frowned. "Um, well, no. He had two made and wanted me to choose one, but I let him pick. I didn't even see what the other one looked like."

"Well, where is it?" Ginny asked impatiently, her fingers grasping at the air in front of Hermione's face.

Hermione dug around under her robes for the chain. It was warm against her skin, a quiet reminder of the feel of Draco's fingers. Finally she pulled it free. "Here. Isn't it pretty?"

Ginny's fingers reached forward to touch the bright stone. "This is so beautiful… He picked this out himself?" she asked, searching Hermione's eyes.

Hermione nodded.

"Maybe he likes you more than I thought, Hermione. This is some gesture. Do you have any idea how much something like this costs? If somebody did that for me, I certainly wouldn't be sitting in the Library on my afternoon off. I'd be locked in a broom closet snogging the bloke as thanks," she said flippantly, then smiled widely. "Well, if it wasn't Malfoy, anyway. Why are you even here, again?" she joked.

"Oh, please," Hermione waved off embarrassingly. "What are you smiling about?" she asked Luna, who was wearing an uncharacteristic expression of extreme smugness.

"It's an Emerald," she said contentedly. "That's the jewel of the Gemini's."

"A coincidence," Hermione said, tired of having her Divination skills thrown in her face again. "It could just be his favorite color."

"Perhaps, but Emeralds also symbolize love and rebirth. It seems that Malfoy likes you even more than anybody could have thought."

Ginny laughed quietly, mindful of the noise level in the Library. "Luna, stop harassing Hermione about that Compatibility Chart and make one up for me and Harry."

Hermione sighed happily and tucked the glimmering Emerald back into her robes.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave me a review so that I know what you think! If you'd like to join the mailing list, let me know. As it is, I still don't have any fan-art for the story. If you are interested in doing some send me an email: or visit me at my LJ: http/ I said earlier, I am considering doing some more adult D/Hr fanfic, possibly as outtakes for this story later on. I don't want to write it if no one is interested in reading it, so please leave a review with your opinion, or send me an email if you aren't comfortable with leaving a review. I really do want to know what you think.

Taigan


	25. Chapter Twentyfour: Paracelsus

A/N: I won't even bother trying to explain why it's taken so long to post this, so I'll just say that I had a really hard time transitioning from the Half-Blood Prince back to this. My muse is back, however, and I will finish this story up. So, my apologies for the wait.

Thanks to my beta, Mary, for her encouragement. I couldn't have finished this chapter without her or the support of the readers and their emails. THANKS!

Old Moon Fades

Chapter Twenty-four: Paracelsus

The chicken tasted bitter on his tongue, and was grainy and tough as he tried biting into it. The rest of the meal wasn't much better. The potatoes were lumpy and thin, almost as if the House Elves had been too generous with the cream. There was too much sugar in the cake. The pumpkin juice had gone ripe. He'd had to refrain from spitting the juice back into his cup after taking a rather large swallow to get the taste of the chicken out of his mouth. Crabbe was sitting across from him, indelicately shoveling food into his mouth, apparently oblivious to the taste of it.

The meal was disgusting and yet no one else seemed to notice.

The Hall was loud with the noise of chatter and laughter. Even at the usually quiet Slytherin table, the students seemed to be in high spirits. As he surveyed the room, Draco took note of the rapt attention everyone was giving him. They tried to be discreet about it, sneaking sly glances his way when they thought he wouldn't notice. Draco caught a group of fifth year Ravenclaws staring at him from behind their borrowed library books. When they saw that he'd caught them staring, they collapsed into a fit of giggles that would have made any Hufflepuff proud.

_Idiots_. _The lot of them._

Normally he would have been pleased to see that he was the prime focus of dinnertime conversation. But not tonight. Tonight he was fighting off the uncomfortable twitchiness that had lodged itself in his stomach. _Must be the chicken_… He couldn't think of any other reason for the uneasy feeling, nor could he explain away the erratic beating of his heart beneath his robes.

Against his will, he continuously found his eyes focusing on the door to the Great Hall and then back to Gryffindor table.

Hermione's chair sat vacant. Her two little sidekicks were there, intent on consuming a ridiculous amount of food. The Weasel appeared to be starving, probably because he'd grown another six inches since he'd woken up that morning. Potter seemed to have taken notice of the shift in attention from himself to Draco, and was watching him carefully, no doubt angry and jealous that Draco had stolen his adoring fans from right under his nose.

He met Potter's eyes across the room. They watched each other warily and Draco wondered momentarily how much Potter knew about the progression in his and Hermione's relationship. He'd almost been expecting Potter and Weasley to attack him in the corridor after he'd walked Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower the night before.

They'd spent only a few minutes in the Kitchens snacking on leftovers. He hadn't been hungry at all, having just eaten quite a large meal in the Hall. Hermione, he assumed, had been more nervous than hungry since she'd really just picked at her food. He'd been rather surprised that she hadn't been angry with him for his House-Elf comment. But she'd just looked at him carefully and he'd practically watched the inner battle she'd had over accepting him for who he is.

It was a strange feeling, getting to know someone when he'd had a conception of them as a person, however inaccurate or superficial, for practically all his young life. They still tip-toed around certain things. The "Mudblood" issue was one, as was his own blood status. House-elves another. The moment he'd made the joke he'd bit the inside of his cheek. Certain habits were hard to break, and some just never seemed to die, no matter how hard he tried to suffocate them. It was such an odd feeling to watch what he said. He wondered briefly what things she debated about, what things she mulled over in her mind. He didn't like the taste of his foot in his mouth, and vowed silently that he'd try harder to keep snide comments about the house-elves from slipping from his lips again.

In all honesty, he hadn't even been sure that she'd been upset by the comment. Draco didn't know all her facial expressions yet. He couldn't look at her, at the quirk of her eyebrows or the crinkle of her smile, and be able to tell what she was feeling. They hadn't spent enough time together to categorize specific emotions. Draco could generalize that she hadn't been mad because her eyes hadn't narrowed at him, indeed he knew her angry look well, but the distant look in her eyes reminded him of how she looked in Potions or Arithmancy as she puzzled through a difficult assignment. He cursed Potty and the Weasel, and even Ginny, for knowing her better, more comprehensively, than he did.

All at once, the roar of chatter fell silent, drawing Draco from his thoughts.

Both he and Potter looked toward the door at the same moment, as did the rest of the assembled student body. The door opened slowly, cautiously, and Hermione walked in behind Ginny, her face slightly pink at the resurgence of hushed whispering. Ginny seemed steadfastly resistant to any sort of embarrassment and gently steered Hermione to her usual seat at the Gryffindor table.

Almost as one, he felt hundreds of pairs of eyes shift in his direction, as if waiting to see what he would do. He waited to see what he would do, as well.

For the first time in his life, Draco didn't feel like making a spectacle of himself.

His relationship with Hermione was his alone. He didn't need to share it with Potter, or the Hufflepuffs, or anyone else for that matter. So, that decision made, he resolved not to get up and walk over to her, even though he wanted to more than anything. She should have the opportunity to eat in peace, free from the embarrassment of being the latest rumor at Hogwarts. But as she met his eyes across the room, he wondered if he really did need to go over. She'd been happy enough to see him in the Library, but now, with the whole school watching?

For once, he didn't want to give into the queasy feeling in his stomach that told him to walk over to her table. If she wanted to see him, she could just as easily come to him.

He absently swirled a small piece of chicken around in his potatoes before bringing the bite to his mouth and eating it. He normally didn't play with his food. The childhood habit had been all but drilled out of him by his mother's constant attempts to perfect his table manners. He couldn't remember the last time he'd played with his food. It must have been obvious because even Crabbe was looking at him askance, but he couldn't be bothered...

He had more important things to think about. Like the weird feeling in his stomach. Draco rubbed the front of his robes absently and wondered if he needed to see Madame Pomfrey about this apparent food poisoning. But a quick glance around the room proved that no one else was having a similar problem.

His usually neatly organized dinner plate was a mess. His vegetables were scattered about his dish, the potatoes even going so far as to rebelliously drip off onto the thick wooden table.

It was no use, the food was nauseating and he couldn't eat another bite of it.

He pushed his plate away forcibly, and was pleased to see that the rim chipped as it banged into the bowl housing the offending potatoes.

Crabbe glanced up at him again and asked quietly, "You alright? You seem to be in a foul mood."

"I'm fine. It's just this food! How can people eat this pig slop?" he whined, gesturing rudely at the cracked dish in front of him.

Draco noticed that Crabbe's gaze, too, lingered over at the Gryffindor table for the briefest of seconds before he said, "Tastes fine to me, Draco."

He stood up quickly, once again drawing the attention of the Hall. He looked out over the sea of faces and found Hermione's. She watched him carefully, painfully aware of being observed by the hundreds of students. Their eyes met and held for a few seconds. She gifted him with a small smile, to which he nodded minutely.

He turned to Crabbe, his eyes never leaving Hermione's. "I'm going up to my room. Don't forget that we've got the Pitch tomorrow after dinner. Remind the others, will you?"

Crabbe nodded but kept his eyes trained on Hermione, his thick eyebrow raised in concern. Draco almost stopped to question his friend about it, but changed his mind and started walking away from the table.

The door slammed loudly against its frame as he walked into the quiet of the corridor. He took his time since he didn't really have anywhere to be until after dinner was over. Draco had almost made it to the stairs leading up to the first floor when he heard the door slam once again. The noise of feet against the stone floor made him pause, curious to see who it was. He turned around to see, and was greeted with a shout.

"Malfoy, wait up!"

Potter.

He turned on his heel to continue up the stairs, regardless of the Boy Wonder calling out to him. He was surprised that he hadn't brought the Weasel with him, though it would have been suspicious for both of them to have left at the same time. Draco had been expecting just this all day, and if Potter wanted a _confrontation_, Draco would pick the place. And it wasn't going to be in the middle of dinner, right outside the Great Hall. Better to have it out in the first floor corridor where he was in close proximity to both the Hospital Wing and his room. Not that he was expecting to lose, by any means, but two against one are never favorable odds, especially when one was fighting over a girl.

He'd been expecting it, really, this eventual row with Potter about the safety and security of Hermione while she was with him. Half of him had thought, though, that they'd settled things already, what with that damned business with Harry's initial refusal to give Hermione the protection charm. But, really, what else could he expect from two hot-heads like Potter and Weasley?

Draco continued walking up the stairs and down the hall, so that any noise that their spell casting would make wouldn't be audible from the ground floor. He turned, holding his wand stiffly at his side, ready for whatever Potter threw at him, and waited.

Potter rounded the corner of the stair and stepped into the corridor. When he took notice of Draco, he immediately straightened, reaching for his wand.

"Where's your red-headed shadow, Potter? I'd expected this, in all honesty, but anticipated less favorable odds."

"What are you going on about? And why do you have your wand out? Do you want to _duel, _or something?"

Draco stiffened and held his wand out higher, pointing it right at Potter's chest. "That's why you followed me up here, isn't it? You and the Weasel are jealous that Hermione wants to be with me, and you just can't handle it."

"Is that what you think this is about?" Potter asked before laughing. "You think I want to fight you? Well, you're right, I suppose. I could always go for a round or two with you, Malfoy. And I'm pretty sure that Ron wouldn't mind it, either, but neither of us are stupid enough to act on it, knowing what Hermione would do to us if we tried."

Draco frowned, loosening the grip he had on his wand. "So, what are you doing up here? You certainly didn't come find me for a nice friendly chat," he ground out through clenched teeth. "We may have agreed to work together for the sake of our prophecies, but that doesn't mean that I'm willing to paint your toenails, or whatever it is you and the Weasel do together."

"And I'd just as soon not spend any of my free time with you either, but I need to ask you something."

"And what's that?" Draco asked irritably.

"It's about the protection charm…" Potter replied.

"Merlin, not that again! Yes, Potter, I gave it to her. She liked it. It's perfectly safe! Flitwick told you that himself, didn't he? It's a waste of both my time and yours for you to keep asking me these inane questions, to which you already know the answers!" Draco shouted, his temper rearing out of control.

"I just want to know what you plan on doing with the other one. The one you didn't give to Hermione."

Draco gave him a puzzled look, honestly confused by Potter's question. "Do you know something about the necklaces, the charms? Did Flitwick say something that you didn't tell me earlier?" he asked.

Potter's uncomfortable look gave him all the answer he needed. A devilish look of comprehension crossed his face, as he smirked and twirled his wand between his fingers. "I see what you're after. Want to get in good with Weasley's sister, don't you? Saw what it did for me and decided you wanted a piece-"

"That's enough, Malfoy," Potter said, taking a step forward.

"Oh, I seem to have struck a nerve," he replied saccharinely.

The other boy squared his shoulders and gave no outward indication of anger, other than annoyance. "What did you do with it?"

He turned quickly, taking a few steps toward his room. When Potter refused to follow, Draco stopped and called out, "Step into my office, Potter."

He continued walking to his room and muttered the password to the little painting by the door. Draco turned to wait for Potter who appeared to be trying to make up his mind. Finally, the other boy moved to follow him into the room. The door swung closed behind him.

Draco left Potter standing by the door while he went to his desk and began rummaging through the top drawer for the charm. When he had the velvet pouch in his hand, he turned to see Potter still standing mutely by the door. Draco rolled his eyes and held it out to him.

When the other boy didn't take it, he sighed dramatically. "Oh come on, I didn't curse it or anything, if that's what you're wondering. It's been sitting in my desk since last night and no one knows the password to my room except me, Dumbledore, and now Hermione."

Draco watched Potter carefully for a moment as the other boy tried to keep his face impassively neutral, but at the reminder of Draco's relationship with Hermione, Potter was betrayed by a rather ill-concealed grimace.

The Gryffindor Golden Boy didn't seem to notice Draco's scrutiny and stepped forward to take the pouch, hesitating only momentarily before opening it. He dumped the contents into his hand and pushed the stone around his palm with his finger.

"I guess you gave Hermione the green one then," he said quietly, and Draco was unsure how to take the comment.

"Obviously. Why, is that a problem?"

"No, I don't know if Ginny will like the red one. I've heard her say that red clashes with her hair…"

Draco snorted. "Well, there's a shop in Hogsmeade that makes this sort of thing. They've got an assortment of stones in other colors and different types of designs. I sent the order in by owl so that I wouldn't have to go into the store, but I have an account there and didn't need to come in. They sent the completed charms back once they were done. Can't have my mum finding out, since she's intent on having Hermione 'taken care of.' If you let the storekeeper know ahead of time that you're coming in, they can have the charm ready for you when you go in to pick out the design. Who knows, they might even do it for free on account of the publicity it would cause."

"What's the name?" Potter asked through gritted teeth.

"It's at the back of _Dervish & Banges_. A little shop called _Gemmeus Burwurd's Stonecutters_. The storekeeper's name is Gilbert Peabody. Short, stocky fellow. Looks rather like a toad with hair. You can't tell it by looking at him, but he's a genius with charms. You want the address?"

Potter sighed dramatically and pushed his glasses further up his nose before speaking. "Yeah, I guess… About how long do you think it'll take before it's done?"

Draco could think of at least ten things he'd rather be doing than talking to Potter about the charm. Potions homework came to mind. Shaving Hagrid's back-hair seemed more appealing at the moment. However, he figured that if Potter was really serious about getting the Weasellette a protection charm, he'd better help him. There was no telling what the numbskull would come up with if left to his own inadequate devices.

"The charm is what takes time. If you know what you want the charm to do, you could always send off for that and then pick out the design once it's done. The easy part is setting the stone with the charm. I bet if you sent off for it now, he'd have the charm ready by the Hogsmeade trip this weekend and all you'd have to do is show up with the money and pick out the jewelry… Though, I seriously doubt your fan-club will let you leave school grounds, what with the imminent threat of death and all that."

"Yeah… that could be a problem."

A light knock at the door interrupted their conversation. "Draco?"

"Is that Hermione?" Potter asked quickly, tucking the necklace back into its pouch and tossing back to Draco. He caught it deftly and shoved it back into the drawer.

"Yeah… we made plans last night to meet up after dinner," he replied quickly, all the while smoothing down his robes. Then he crossed the room, pushing past the other boy.

"Move, Potter," he said, as he opened the door on a very confused looking Hermione.

"Draco," she said, not really taking the time to notice the other person in the room. "You left the hall so quickly, I'd rather hoped we could have walked back together," she said quietly, gazing at him intently.

It took her a moment to notice Potter in the room as well. "Harry? What are you doing here?" she asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. "You weren't _fighting_, were you?"

Potter stuttered nervously, forcing Draco to roll his eyes and answer for both of them.

"Of course not," he replied quickly. "We were just strategizing. You know, for the Dark Lord."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Really?" she deadpanned. "Somehow, I just don't believe you."

"Does it look like we were fighting?" he asked simply, holding his hands out innocently.

"No…" Hermione answered skeptically. "That's what's worrying me."

"Think what you want, you will anyway. We were simply doing what you and Dumbledore have been asking us to do for weeks. And that's strategizing," Draco said before gesturing toward his accomplice. "Isn't that right, Potter?"

Potter's eyebrow shot up but he turned to Hermione to reassure her. "Ease up, Hermione. We're just doing all we can to ensure the safety of our friends. No need to worry."

Hermione snorted and Draco had to bite the inside of his cheek to contain his own reaction to Potter's typically heroic and self-sacrificing speech.

"Don't you have to go save something now, Potter?" Draco suggested, motioning towards the door.

Potter gestured rudely at him in response but smiled at Hermione. An awkward silence ensued, wherein Hermione glanced almost _giddily_ between the two of them and Draco tried his best to pretend he'd never engaged in any sort of _civil_ exchange with Potter. Potter, for his part, seemed torn between leaving as quickly as possible, and staying to make sure Draco didn't behave inappropriately with Hermione.

Finally the awkwardness took over and Potter mumbled a quick goodbye and ducked out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind him, Hermione erupted into a bout of very girlish giggling.

"Funny, Granger, I never pictured you as much of a giggler," Draco said teasingly, taking a step closer. "It suits you."

She ignored the comment but blushed prettily and fidgeted. "So, I guess the pair of you are planning to leave me in the dark about whatever it was you were conspiring about before I got here," she said quickly, brushing off his statement.

"Well, you won't have much success trying to harass it out of _me_, but you can bug Potter about it as much as you want," Draco replied, smiling before shrugging. "It's not even a really big deal. You'll find out eventually, I'm sure."

"Keep your secrets then, and I'll keep mine…" Hermione said vaguely, walking away from him to the window.

He watched her for a moment as she gazed out of the window onto the grounds below. Eventually, however, he let his eyes drift from her and looked out onto the steadily darkening sky. The sun had set but the last of its bright red rays clung steadfastly to the distant clouds. The sky was a riot of color, burning and undulating in the final moments before darkness set in for the night.

_It's all some damned metaphor_, he thought angrily. _All of it. _He wondered briefly if he'd ever be able to look at the world around him without remembering his fate, whatever it was, or whatever it would be… Could the world ever go back to normal? _Will I constantly be hounded by shadows_, he asked himself silently as the sun continued its descent below the horizon.

Hermione, who seemed to have been as caught up in the view as he had been, turned back to him, the unyielding light crowning her hair like a fiery halo. "You seem quiet, Draco… Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," he replied automatically.

She watched him skeptically for a few long seconds before turning back toward the window. Her voice was soft in the brilliance of the fading light. "You know, I meant what I said earlier. About wanting to walk back with you… But I understand if you wouldn't want to…"

"I would have, had I known that's what you wanted… I guess I'll know then, for next time," he responded seriously.

This time when she turned back to him, she smiled, his meaning obviously not lost on her.

"Well, you said earlier that you wanted to show me something…" Hermione prompted rather nervously.

"Yes. I have something for you. It just arrived this morning."

He walked over to the trunk that was pushed haphazardly up next to his bookcase, pulled a key from his pocket and crouched down in front of the lock. When he glanced over his shoulder at her, he saw she was still standing across the room looking, once again, out of the window. He stood slowly, the key cool in his hand.

"Hermione, is everything alright?" he asked quietly.

"Everything's fine. Wonderful, really. I just wonder how long it's going to last. I just don't want to get too caught up in _this_," she said quietly, gesturing between the two of them, "that we forget about the prophecies and war with Voldemort."

Draco felt his shoulders tense and clenched his fingers tightly around the cool metal key in his hand. "Do you want to cool things off, or something, is that it? You've had second thoughts…"

He tried not to sound too bothered by it but couldn't help the slightly hurt, angry edge to his voice. Apparently the sound bothered Hermione just as much as it had him, and she turned quickly to him, abandoning the window and the setting sun.

"No! That isn't what I want at all! I'm just so… scared of what's going to happen," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I hate not knowing. I just hate _waiting_ for something to happen to me, to my friends."

His grip on the key loosened, and unconsciously Draco let a sigh of relief escape his lips. "Well unless you're willing to instigate something with the Dark Lord, there's not much else we can do besides wait," he said seriously, his brow cocking slightly before a Cheshire grin broke out on his face. "Though I can think of some activities we could engage in to pass the time…" he teased.

She blushed again and nervously tugged at the hem of her jumper, but she didn't pull her eyes from his this time. Certainly that was a good sign.

"You were going to open that trunk, Draco," she said, changing the subject. Or postponing it; Draco wasn't sure which.

"Yes…" he murmured, twirling the key between his fingers, and turning back to the trunk.

Hermione approached cautiously as he twisted the key in the lock. "So, what is it exactly?" she asked.

"A complete set of Gilderoy Lockhart's books, including the bestseller _and_ winner of 'Witch Weekly's Golden Quill Award', _Magical Me._ All 10 volumes. Autographed, too…" he said quickly, glancing back over his shoulder to where she leaned against the bedpost. "I know that he once held a special place in your heart, so I pulled a few strings," Draco said seriously, and then laughed at the horrified look on her face. "What, you actually thought I'd tell you what it is?"

"Of course not, by now I know never to expect a straight answer from you, Malfoy," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So, we're back to _Malfoy_ now, are we? You must have been more hung up on that peacock Lockhart than I thought," he laughed, propping the lid of the trunk open with the crook of his elbow as he looked over his shoulder at her.

"Oh, please," she huffed. "You're worse than Ron, you know that?"

"Play nicely, or you won't get your present," Draco teased. "And don't ever compare me to the Weasel. It's bad for my complexion. Now, do you want this damned gift, or not?"

"It isn't really a set of Gilderoy Lockhart books, is it?"

"Here, have a look for yourself," he said, smiling. He reached up and tugged on her hand where it nervously fiddled with the hem of her jumper, and pulled her down until she sat cross legged on the rug next to him.

Dramatically he opened the lid of the trunk further, all the while watching Hermione's face for her reaction.

When the trunk was opened completely, and her face still hadn't betrayed any sort of recognition, he squeezed her hand. "Go ahead, open one up," he suggested. "They don't bite. Not like the books that great un-showered beast they have teaching Care of Magical Creatures assigned us."

Hermione elbowed him lightly in the side but reached into the trunk and pulled back the dark blue fabric that was draped delicately over the packages. He watched as her hand trembled slightly, and smiled at the dainty surprised "oh" that escaped her lips.

She spoke softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "Is this really… I almost didn't believe you when you said you had them," she whispered, her fingers shaking over the cover. "You can't mean to give these to me!" she asked incredulously.

"They're yours if you want them," he said simply, before pulling one out of the trunk and handing it to her. "It's not like they were getting much use at the Manor. Mother wouldn't read them. I read them long ago, but it's no fun not to have anyone to discuss them with."

"But, Draco… these are _Paracelsus's_ personal journals! Most people don't even believe that they _exist_, let alone that there could possibly be this many volumes!" she said quickly, wrapping the book back up and replacing it in the trunk. "I'm sorry, but I can't accept this. It's too much."

"Before you reject them completely, let me explain. I _do _have an ulterior motive for this, you know," he grinned.

"Draco, seriously, now isn't the time, and I thought I explained to you that you can't buy people off with extravagant presents, and you especially can't buy _affection_," she stammered, annoyed.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Granger, and let me explain," he teased, still grinning. "What do you know about the Dark Lord's attempts at immortality?"

"Huh?" she asked confusingly. "As far as I know he's tried several times to gain immortality, with the Sorcerer's Stone our first year…"

Draco watched her quietly as comprehension dawned on her face and grinned when she pulled the book back out from the trunk. She held it out in front of her, her eyes near bulging with surprise and understanding.

"Now do you see what I meant by an ulterior motive? I spent my childhood watching my father read these books cover to cover," Draco said.

She looked at him then, sadness and empathy in her eyes at the mention of his father. He didn't let that look bother him as much as he might have, had he been in a less happy mood.

"Quiz time, Granger. The Sorcerer's Stone. What is it, and who is Nicolas Flamel? You get _bonus points_ if you can name his supposed predecessor," Draco said, leaning back against the bookcase and stretching his legs out in front of him.

She glared at him for a moment before breaking into a wide grin at his teasing.

"The stone was said to have produced the Elixir of Life and could give the drinker immortality. The initial motivation for creating the stone was to give the owner an unlimited supply of gold; that it also made them immortal was only a side effect, recognized only after the fact. Nicolas Flamel was the only known alchemist to have created the stone, and he died only recently, after living for more than 6 and a half centuries," Hermione answered quickly, in typical fashion. Her eyes lit up though as her fingers traced the thick cover of the book in her hands. "Flamel's predecessor is rumored to have been Paracelsus, but no one knows for sure, since both were very secretive and led reasonably quiet lives."

Draco reached into the trunk and pulled another volume from its depths. He flipped the cover open, glancing over the tight handwriting inside. "My father knew there was something inside these books that could help the Dark Lord. The history books say that Flamel's stone was the only one known to be in existence in modern times. It doesn't say that it's the only one _ever_. Here, let me show you," he said, reaching behind him to pull an enormous book down from the bookcase.

He flipped the pages until he'd found the passage he was looking for. "'_There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel._'"

"So you're saying that Paracelsus could have created a Stone of his own, or at least figured out how Flamel did it in the first place," Hermione replied, still staring at the book in Draco's hand. "I read that book once, our first year."

"Doesn't surprise me, really. You've read half of all the books ever printed. But you see my point, don't you, that these journals may provide some sort of insight into the Dark Lord's mind, or at least the steps he's willing to take to become immortal."

"You want to learn how to create a stone of your own," she said quietly, the faint traces of horror evident on her face.

"I'm not ruling that out, after all, the only way to defeat someone is to understand them inside and out. Right now, though, all I want to do if figure out what my father was looking for in these journals."

A/N: Thanks for reading, as always, I'm more eager to keep writing if I know that people are enjoying the story. Also, be sure to visit me at my livejournal, where I have links to a co-write I did with my beta, waxbean.


End file.
